THE ORACLE'S QUEEN

 

 

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Acknowledgments

 

Thanks, first and foremost to Dr. Doug, my main Muse and best friend. Also to Pat York, Anne Groell, Lucienne Diver, Matthew and Timothy Flewelling, Nancy Jeffers, Dr. Meghan Cope, and Bonnie Blanch for all their helpful feedback and patience, and to all the readers who've given me such great support over the years.

 

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Chapter 1

 

 

 

 

 

The cold night breeze shifted, blowing stinging smoke from old Teolin's campfire into Mahti's eyes. The young witch blinked it away, but remained squatting motionless, his bearskin cloak pulled around him like a little hut. It was bad luck to fidget during this last crucial step of the making.

 

The old witch hummed happily as he heated his knife again and again, using the tip and edge to incise the rings of dark, intricate patterns that now covered most of the long wooden tube. Teolin was ancient. His wrinkled brown skin hung on his skinny frame like old cloth and his bones showed through. The witch marks on his face and body were hard to read, distorted by the ravages of time. His hair hung over his shoulders in a thin tangle of yellowed strands. Years of making had left his blunt, knobby fingers stained black, but they were as nimble as ever.

 

Mahti's last oo'lu had cracked one cold night this past midwinter, after he'd played out an elder's gallstones. It had taken months of searching to find the right kind of bildi branch to make a new one. Bildi trees weren't scarce, but you had to find a sapling trunk or large branch that had been ant-hollowed, and the right size to give a good tone. "High as your chin, and four fingers broad"; so he'd been taught and so it was.

 

He'd found plenty of flawed branches in the hills around his village: knotted ones, cracked ones, others with holes eaten out through the side. The large black ants that followed the rising sap through the heartwood were industrious but undiscerning craftsmen.

 

He'd finally found one, and cut his horn stave from it. But it was bad luck for a witch to make his own instrument, even if he had the skill. Each must be earned and given from the hand of another. So he'd strapped it to his back over his bearskin cloak and snowshoed for three days and nights to bring it to Teolin.

 

The old man was the best oo'lu maker in the eastern hills. Witch men had been coming to him for three generations and he turned away more than he accepted.

 

It took weeks to make an oo'lu. During this time it was Mahti's job to chop wood, cook food, and generally make himself useful while Teolin worked.

 

Teolin first stripped the bark and used live coals to burn out the last of the ants' leavings. When the stave was fully hollowed he went out of earshot to test the tone. Satisfied, he and Mahti rested and traded spells for a week while the hollow branch hung drying in the rafters near the smoke hole of Teolin's hut.

 

It dried without warping or cracking. Teolin sawed the ends square and rubbed beeswax into the wood until it gleamed. Then they'd waited two more days for the full moon.

 

Tonight was the sit-still.

 

That afternoon Mahti had scraped away the snow in front of the hut and dragged out an old lion skin for Teolin to sit on. He laid a large fire, with more wood stacked within easy reach, and hunkered down to tend it.

 

Teolin sat down wrapped in his moth-eaten bearskin and set to work. Using a heated iron knife, he etched the rings of magic onto the wood. Mahti watched with rapt attention as he fed the fire, marveling at how the designs seemed to flow from the tip of the blade, like ink onto deerskin. He wondered if it would come so easily to him, when the time came for him to make oo'lus for others? Now the Mother's full white face was high overhead and Mahti's ankles ached from squatting, but the oo'lu was nearly done.

 

 

When the last of the rings was complete, Teolin dipped the mouth end in a little pot of melted wax, then rolled a softened lump of it into a thin coil and pressed it in a ring to the waxed end of the horn. He squinted across at Mahti, gauging the size of his mouth, and pinched the wax in until the opening was about two thumbs wide.

 

Satisfied at last, he gave Mahti a toothless grin. "Ready to learn this one's name?"

 

Mahti's heart beat faster as he stood and stretched the stiffness from his legs. His last oo'lu, Moon Plow, had served him seven years. In that time he'd become a man and a healer. Honoring the Moon Plow mark, he'd planted many fine children in women's bellies at Mother Shek'met's festivals. His sons and daughters were scattered through three valleys and some of the oldest were already showing witch's talent.

 

When Moon Plow cracked, this cycle of his life ended. He was twenty-three summers old, and his next future was about to be revealed.

 

Drawing his own knife, he cut his right palm and held it over the mouth of the oo'lu as Teolin held it. A few drops of his blood fell inside it as he sang the claiming spell. The black tracery of witch marks across his face, arms, and chest tickled like spider feet. When he thrust his hand into the fire, he didn't feel the heat of it. Straightening, he moved to the far side of the fire and faced the old man. "I'm ready."

 

Teolin held the oo'lu upright and chanted the blessing, then tossed it across to Mahti.

 

He caught it awkwardly in his fire hand, gripping it well below the center. Even hollow, it was a heavy thing. It nearly overbalanced, and if it had fallen, he'd have had to burn it and start all over again. But he managed to hang on to it, gritting his teeth until the witch marks faded completely from sight on his arms. He took the horn in his left hand and inspected it. The shiny black print of his fire hand was branded into the wood.

 

Teolin took it back and carefully examined how the marks of Mahti's splayed fingers intersected the carved designs. He was a long time at it, humming and sucking his gums.

 

"What's wrong?" asked Mahti. "Is it a bad luck cycle?"

 

"This is the Sojourn mark you've made. You better spit for it."

 

Teolin scratched a circle in the ashes at the edge of the fire with his knife. Mahti took a mouthful of water from the gourd and spat forcefully into the circle, then turned away quickly as Teolin hunkered down to interpret the marks.

 

The old man sighed. "You'll travel among strangers until this oo'lu cracks. Whether that's good luck or bad, only the Mother knows, and she doesn't feel like telling me tonight. But it's a strong mark you made. You'll travel a long way."

 

Mahti bowed respectfully. If Teolin said it would be so, then it would be. Best just to accept it. "When do I go? Will I see Lhamila's child born?"

 

Teolin sucked his gums again, staring down at the spit marks. "Go home by a straight path tomorrow and lay your blessings on her belly. A sign will come. But now, let's hear this fine horn I've made for you!"

 

Mahti settled his mouth firmly inside the wax mouthpiece. It was still warm and smelled of summer. Closing his eyes, he filled his cheeks with air and blew gently out through loosened lips.

 

Sojourn's deep voice came to life with his breath. He hardly had to adjust his playing style at all before the rich, steady drone warmed the wood beneath his hands. Gazing up at the white moon, he sent a silent thanks to the Mother. Whatever his new fate was, he knew already that he would do great magic with Sojourn, surpassing all he'd done with Moon Plow.

 

By the time he finished the claiming song he was lightheaded. "It's good!" he gasped. "Are you ready?"

 

The old man nodded and hobbled back into the hut.

 

They'd agreed on the payment their first day together. Mahti lit the bear fat lamp and set it by the piled furs of the sleeping platform.

 

Teolin shrugged off his cloak and undid the ties of his shapeless robe. The elk and bear teeth decorating it clicked softly as he let it fall. He stretched out on his pallet, and Mahti knelt and ran his eyes over the old man's body, feeling compassion tinged with sadness rise in his heart. No one knew how old Teolin was, not even the old witch himself. Time had eaten most of the flesh from his frame. His penis, said to have planted more than five hundred festival seeds, now lay like a shrunken thumb against his hairless sac.

 

The old man smiled gently. "Do what you can. Neither the Mother nor I ask more than that."

 

Mahti leaned down, kissed the old man's lined brow, and drew the fusty bearskin up to Teolin's chin to keep him warm. Settling beside the platform, he rested the end of the horn close to the old man's side, closed his eyes, and began the spell song.

 

With lips and tongue and breath, he altered the drone to a sonorous, rhythmic pulse. The sound filled Mahti's head and chest, making his bones shiver. He gathered the energies and sent them out through Sojourn to Teolin. He could feel the song enter the old man, lifting the strong soul free of the frail, pain-wracked body, letting it drift up through the smoke hole like milkweed fluff. Bathing in the light of a full moon was very healing for a soul. It returned to the body cleansed and gave a clear mind and good health.

 

Satisfied, Mahti changed the song, tightening his lips to weave in the night croak of a heron, the booming boast of grandfather frog, and the high, reedy chorus of all the little peepers who knew the rain's secrets. With these, he washed the hot sand from the old man's joints and cleansed the little biting spirits from his intestines. Searching deeper, he smelled a shadow in Teolin's chest and followed it to a dark mass in the upper lobe of his liver. The death there was still asleep, curled tight like a child in the womb. This, Mahti could not cleanse away. Some were fated to carry their own deaths. Teolin would understand. For now, at least, there was no pain.

 

Mahti let his mind wander on through the old man's body, soothing the old fractures in his right heel and left arm, pressing the pus away from the root of a broken molar, dissolving the grit in the old man's bladder and kidneys. For all its wizened appearance, Teolin's penis was still strong. Mahti played the sound of a forest fire into his sac. The old man had a few more festivals in him; let the Mother be served by another generation bearing his fine old blood.

 

The rest was all old scars, long since healed or accepted; Allowing himself a whim, he played the white owl's call through Teolin's long bones, then droned the soul back down into the old man's flesh.

 

When he was finished, he was surprised to see pink dawn light shining in through the smoke hole. He was covered in sweat and shaking, but elated. Smoothing his hand down the polished length of the oo'lu, he whispered, "We will do great things, you and I."

 

 

Teolin stirred and opened his eyes.

 

"The owl song tells me you are one hundred and eight years old," Mahti informed him.

 

The old man chuckled. "Thank you. I'd lost track." He reached out and touched the handprint on the oo'lu. "I caught a vision for you while I slept. I saw the moon, but it was not the Mother's round moon. It was a crescent, sharp as a snake's tooth. I've seen that vision only once before, not too long ago. It was for a witch from Eagle Valley village."

 

"Did she learn what it meant?"

 

"I don't know. She went away with some oreskiri. I've never heard anything of her return. Her name is Lhel. If you meet her in your travels, give her my greeting. Perhaps she can tell you the meaning."

 

"Thank you, I'll do that. But you still don't know if my fate is a good one or a bad one?"

 

"I've never walked Sojourn's path. Perhaps it depends on where your feet take you. Walk bravely in your all travels, honor the Mother, and remember who you are. Do that and you will continue to be a good man, and a fine witch."

 

Mahti left the old man's clearing at dawn the next day, Teolin's blessing still tingling on his brow.

 

Plodding over the crusty snow, Sojourn a comforting weight across his shoulders in its sling, he smelled the first hint of spring on the morning air. Later, as the sun rose over the peaks, he heard it in the dripping of water from bare branches.

 

He knew this trail well. The rhythmic crunch and rasp of his snowshoes lulled him into a light trance and his thoughts drifted. He wondered if he'd plant different kinds of children now than he had under the Moon Plow sign? Then again, if he were to travel far, would he plant any children at all?

 

He wasn't surprised when the vision came. He often had them at moments like these, tramping alone through the peace of the forest.

 

The winding path became a river under his feet, and the sinew and bent ash of his snowshoes grew into a little boat that bobbed gently on the current. Instead of the thick forest on the far bank, there was open land, very green and fertile. He knew in the way of visions that this must be the southland, where his people had once lived, before the foreigners and their oreskiri had driven them into the hills.

 

A woman stood between a tall man and a young girl on that bank, and she waved to Mahti as if she knew him. She was Retha'noi like him, and naked. Dark-skinned and small, her fine, ripe body was covered with witch marks. The fact that she was naked in the vision told him that she was dead, a spirit coming to him with a message.

 

Greetings, my brother. I am Lhel.

 

Mahti's eyes widened as he recognized the name. This was the woman Teolin had spoken of, the one who'd gone away with the southlanders on a sojourn of her own. She smiled at him and he smiled back; this was the Mother's will.

 

She beckoned him to join her but his boat would not move.

 

He looked more closely at the others with her. They were black-haired, too, but the man's was cut short and the girl's hung in long waves around her shoulders rather than the coarse curls of his people. They were taller, too, and pale as a pair of bones. The young man had an aura of strong magic about him: oreskiri, surely, but with a hint of power Mahti recognized. This witch, Lhel, must have taught him something of their ways. That was troubling, even though Teolin had spoken no ill of her.

 

The girl did not have magic, but Lhel pointed to the ground at the girl's feet and Mahti saw that she had a double shadow, one male, and one female.

 

He didn't know how to interpret the vision yet, except that these two were both living people, and southlanders. He was not afraid or angry to see them here in his mountains, though. Maybe it was the way the other witch rested her hands on their shoulders, love so clear in her dark eyes. She looked at Mahti again and made a sign of bequeathing. She was giving these two strangers into his care, but why?

 

Without thinking, he set the new oo'lu to his lips and played a song he did not recognize.

 

The vision passed and the forest path returned around him. He was standing in a clearing, still playing that song. He didn't know what it was for; perhaps it was for the southlanders. He would play it for them when they met and see if they knew.

 

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Chapter 2

 

  

 

 

 

"It's one thing to accept one's destiny. It's quite another to live it."

 

"I am Tamir!" Ki stood beside her in that ruined throne room, the acrid stink of the burning city thick in the air, and watched as his friend declared herself a woman and rightful heir to the throne. Imonus, high priest of Afra, had brought Gherilain's lost gold stele as proof. It was as big as a door and he could see Tamir reflected in it, crowned by the ancient prophecy engraved there:

 

 

 

So long as a daughter of Thelatimos'

 

line defends and rules, Skala shall

 

never be subjugated.

 

 

 

She didn't look much like a queen yet, just a ragged, tired, too-thin girl in battle-stained men's clothing. She hadn't had to strip for the crowd this time, but there was no mistaking the jut of small pointed breasts through the loose linen shirt.

 

Ki averted his eyes with a vague pang of guilt. The thought of how her body had changed still gave him a sick feeling.

 

Iya and Arkoniel stood with the priests at the foot of the dais, still in their dirty robes. They'd helped turn the tide of battle, but Ki knew the truth about them now, too. It was their doing, all the lies.

 

The oath takings and rituals dragged on and on. Ki scanned the crowd, trying to share in the joy he saw around him, but all he could think of at that moment was how young and thin and brave and worn out Tobin—no, Tamir—looked.

 

He tried the unfamiliar name in his mind again, hoping to make it stick. He'd seen the proof of her sex with his own eyes, but he still could not get his mind around it, or his heart.

 

I'm just tired.

 

Had it only been a week since they'd ridden for Atyion at the king's order? Just a week since he'd first learned the truth about Tobin, his dearest friend, his heart's brother?

 

He blinked away the sudden stinging in his eyes. His friend was not Tobin anymore. There she stood, right in front of him, yet he felt as if Tobin had died.

 

He glanced sidelong at Tharin, hoping the man hadn't noticed his weakness. Teacher, mentor, second father, he'd slapped Ki when he'd panicked that night on the road to Atyion. Ki had deserved it, and he'd been grateful for the correction. He'd stood fast with Tharin and Lynx a few days later when Tobin had sliced the fragment of Brother's bone, and the witch's magic with it, from his own breast on the steps of Atyion castle, calling down the mystical fire that burned away his male body. Horrified, they'd watched as Tobin bled and burned and somehow lived to strip withered flesh away like a snake shedding last year's outworn skin, leaving in his place this wan, hollow-eyed girl.

 

The rituals ended at last. Tharin and the newly organized bodyguard closed ranks in front of them. Close by Tamir's side, Ki saw how she wavered a little as she stepped down from the dais. He slipped a discreet hand under her elbow, steadying her.

 

Tamir pulled her arm away, but gave him a small, tight smile, letting him know it was only pride.

 

"May we escort you to your old chamber, Highness?" Tharin asked. "You can rest there until arrangements can be made elsewhere." Tamir gave him a grateful look. "Yes, thank you." Arkoniel made to follow, but Iya stopped him, and Tamir did not look back or summon them.

 

The palace corridors were packed with the wounded. The air was rank with the stench of blood. The fish pools set into the floors were stained pink with it. Drysian healers were at work everywhere, overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of those in need of their skills. Tamir looked around sadly as they hurried on, and Ki could guess her thoughts. These soldiers had fought under Erius' banner and fallen for Ero. How many would have fought for her? And how many would serve under her now?

 

Reaching her old chamber at last, she said, "Keep guard out here, Tharin, please?"

 

Ki hesitated, thinking she meant to leave him, too, but she dispelled his doubts with a sharp glance and Ki followed her into the ransacked room that had once been their home.

 

As soon as the door was closed she slumped back against it and let out an unsteady laugh. "Free at last! For now anyway."

 

That voice still sent a shiver through him. Tobin wasn't yet sixteen, and hadn't lost his high, boyish voice. Still hoarse from battle, Tamir sounded just the same. In the gathering gloom, she even looked like Prince Tobin, with her warrior braids and long black hair falling forward around her face.

 

"Tob?" The old name still came too easily.

 

"You can't call me that anymore."

 

Ki heard the echo of his own confusion in her voice and reached for her hand, but she brushed past him. and went to the bed…

 

Nikides lay as they'd left him, still unconscious. His sandy hair was plastered to his cheeks with sweat and blood, and the bandages around his side were crusted with it, but his breathing was even. Tamir's little page, Baldus, was curled asleep at his feet.

 

Tamir rested a hand on Nikides' brow.

 

"How is he?" asked Ki.

 

"Feverish, but alive."

 

"Well, that's something."

 

Of the nineteen original Companions, five were dead for certain, and the rest missing, except for Nik and two squires. Tanil would be lucky to survive the brutal torture he'd suffered at the hands of the Plenimarans. Lynx still seemed recklessly intent on not surviving his fallen lord, Orneus, yet he'd come through every battle without a scratch.

 

"I hope Lutha and Barieus are still alive," Ki murmured, wondering how their friends would fare without them. He sat down on the floor and ran his fingers back through his tangled hair. It had grown long over the winter. The thin brown braids framing his face hung to his chest. "Where do you suppose Korin went?"

 

Tamir sank down beside him and shook her head. "I still can't believe he'd abandon the city like that!"

 

"Everyone says it was Niryn's doing."

 

"I know, but how could Korin let that bastard sway him like that? He never liked him any more than we did."

 

Ki said nothing, keeping his bitter thoughts to himself. From the day they'd met, Ki had seen the weakness in the Prince Royal, just as clearly as Tamir had seen the good. It was like a streak of poor alloy in a fine blade, and had already betrayed him twice in battle. Royal or not, Korin was a coward, and that was unforgivable in a warrior—or a king.

 

Tamir shifted over, leaning against his shoulder. "What do you suppose Korin and the others thought if they've heard news of me?"

 

"Nik or Tanil can tell us that when they wake up, I guess."

 

"What would you think, in their place?" she fretted, scratching at a bit of dried blood on the back of one hand. "How do you suppose it will sound to anyone who wasn't there to see?"

 

Before he could answer that, Arkoniel slipped in with out knocking. Unshaven, one arm in a sling, he looked more beggar than wizard.

 

Ki could hardly bear to look at him. Arkoniel had been their teacher and their friend, or so they thought. But he'd lied to them all these years. Even knowing the reason, Ki wasn't yet sure he could forgive him for that.

 

Arkoniel must have read his thoughts or his face; the sudden sadness in his eyes betrayed him. "Duke Illardi has offered his villa as a headquarters. The grounds have strong walls and there's been no plague in that ward. It's a safer place for you than here. The fires are still spreading."

 

"Tell him I accept his offer," Tamir replied without looking up. "I want Nik with me, and Tanil, too. He's at the camp we overran yesterday."

 

"Of course."

 

"And we should save what we can of the royal library and archives before the fire spreads."

 

"Already seen to," Arkoniel assured her. "Tharin's placed a guard on the Royal Tomb, as well, but I'm afraid there was some looting."

 

"Seems I'm always saddled with caring for the dead." Tamir rose and walked out onto the broad balcony that overlooked the palace gardens and the city beyond. Ki and Arkoniel followed.

 

This part of the Old Palace was hardly touched by the destruction outside. Snowdrops and banks of white narcissus glowed in the failing daylight. Beyond the walls, smoke hung heavy over the city, lit from below by flames.

 

Tamir gazed up at the red-stained sky. "One of the last things my uncle said to me before we rode for Atyion was that if Ero is lost, Skala is lost. What do you think, Arkoniel? Was he right? Were we too late?"

 

"No. It's a terrible blow, certainly, but Ero is only one city among many. Skala is wherever you are. The queen is the land. I know things look grim to you right now, but births are seldom easy and never clean. Rest a bit before we ride. Oh, and Iya's spoken to some of the women in your guard. Ahra or Una can stay with you tonight."

 

"Ki is still my squire."

 

The wizard hesitated, then said quietly, "I don't think that's advisable, do you?"

 

Tamir rounded on him, pent-up fury blazing in those dark eyes. Even Ki took a step back in the face of it.

 

"It is advisable because I say it is! Consider that my first official proclamation as your queen-to-be. Or am I just a wizard's puppet after all, like my uncle?"

 

Arkoniel looked stricken as he pressed a hand to his heart and bowed. "No, never that. I swear on my life."

 

"I'll remember you said that," Tamir snapped. "And you remember this. I accept my duty to Skala, the gods, my line, and my people. But right now, I warn you—" A quaver crept into her voice. "Don't cross me in this. Ki stays with me. Now just—go away!"

 

"As you wish, Highness." The wizard quickly retreated, but not without a sad look in Ki's direction.

 

Ki pretended not to notice. You put her here. You can damn well suffer the consequences along with the rest of us!

 

"Prince Tobin?" Baldus stood in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. Tamir's valet, Molay, had hidden the child in a trunk during the final attack. When Tamir and Ki had found him afterward, he was too exhausted and terrified to notice the change in her. He looked around in confusion. "Where's the princess you were talking to, Lord Ki?"

 

Tamir went to the child and took his hand. "Look at me, Baldus. Look closely."

 

The boy's brown eyes widened. "Highness, are you bewitched?"

 

"I was. Now I'm not."

 

Baldus nodded uncertainly. "An enchanted princess, like in the bard's tales?" Tamir managed a pained smile. "Something like that. We need to get you someplace safe."

 

Chin trembling, the child fell to his knees, clutching her hand and kissing it. "I'll always serve you, Princess Tobin. Please don't send me away!"

 

"Of course I won't, if you want to stay." Tamir pulled him to his feet and hugged him. "I need every loyal man I can find. But you must call me Princess Tamir now."

 

"Yes, Princess Tamir." The child clung to her. "Where's Molay?"

 

"I don't know."

 

Ki doubted they'd see him again on this side of Bilairy's gate. "Get some sleep, Tamir. I'll keep watch." To his surprise, she didn't argue. Stretching out beside Nikides on the bare mattress, she turned on her side and surrendered at last to exhaustion.

 

Ki pulled up a chair and sat with his sword unsheathed across his knees. He was her squire and he would do his duty, but he studied that shadowed face with the heavy heart of a friend.

 

Darkness had fallen when Tharin came in with a lamp. Ki blinked in the sudden light. Tamir sat up at once, reaching for her sword.

 

"Everything's ready, Tamir." Tharin stepped aside to make way for the litter bearers who'd come for Nikides. Lynx followed, carrying Tamir's discarded armor.

 

"I've assembled an escort for you in the front court and Manies has gone for your horses," said Tharin. "You'd best wear your armor. The streets are far from secure."

 

Ki took the Aurenfaie hauberk from the other squire. Lynx understood. This was Ki's responsibility, and his honor.

 

He helped Tamir put on the supple mail hauberk, then buckled on the breastplate for her. These pieces, as well as what Ki, Lynx, and Tharin wore, had all come from the Atyion armory. Wrestling with the unfamiliar buckles, he wondered what had become of the armor they'd left behind in Ero that night. Lost with everything else, Ki thought with regret. His had been a gift from Tobin, one of her own designs.

 

Tamir, he thought, catching himself. Damnation! How long before that came naturally?

 

The rest of the royal guard was mounted and waiting for them in the courtyard. Beyond the wall, the Palatine was as bright as day from the fires still burning there. The hot breeze was against them, and ash had drifted over everything like a grey killing frost.

 

There were at least a hundred riders assembled, many of whom held torches to light the way. Most of the horses had shorn manes, Ki noted. Mourning for the king, perhaps, or lost comrades. The few remaining men from the Alestun guard were at the forefront, still keeping together as a group. Aladar and Kadmen saluted him and he returned it with a heavy heart; too many missing faces there.

 

Lady Una was there, too, with Iya, Arkoniel, and the ragtag collection of wizards Iya had gathered. The rest were soldiers still wearing the baldric of Atyion, Captain Grannia and her women foremost among them.

 

Lord Jorvai and Lord Kyman, Tamir's first allies among the nobles, waited with sizable contingents of their own riders.

 

Left-handed Manies hoisted Tamir's tattered banner aloft. It still showed the blended coat of arms of her parents, Ero and Atyion together. A long black ribbon was tied to the top of the staff, out of respect for the dead king.

 

"You should ride under the royal banner now," said Tharin.

 

"I haven't been crowned yet, have I? Besides, Korin took that with him, too." She leaned closer, whispering, "So many? It's less than three miles to Illardi's house."

 

"As I said, the streets are still dangerous. A lot of Erius' men have refused to join us. They could still be out there somewhere, planning who knows what."

 

Tamir settled her sword on her hip and went down the steps to the tall black horse a man still wearing Erius' colors was holding for her.

 

"Keep your eyes open and stay close to her," Tharin muttered as he and Ki followed.

 

"I will!" Ki shot back under his breath. What did Tharin think he was going to do, go woolgathering as if they were out for a hunt?

 

As Ki swung up onto his borrowed horse, he saw that Tamir had drawn her dagger. Her horse's mane had not been shorn. She grasped a hank of the coarse black hair and cut it free, then singed it in a nearby torch. It was a symbolic act, but a worthy one. "For my kin," she said, loud enough for all to hear. "And for all who died bravely for Skala."

 

From the corner of his eye, Ki caught Iya smiling and shaking her head.

 

Ki and Tamir rode at the center of the column, shielded on all sides by armed riders and wizards. Jorvai took the forward position, and Kyman and his men the rear guard. Tharin rode with Tamir, and the two wizards flanked them. Baldus clung wide-eyed behind Arkoniel, a small bundle clutched in one hand.

 

With much of the Palatine still in flames, the usual route to the gate was impassable. Tamir and her column crossed the ruined park to a small secondary gate behind the ravaged drysian grove.

 

This way took them past the Royal Tomb. Tamir glanced up at the scorched ruins of the portico. Ranks of priests and soldiers stood guard there, but most of the royal effigies were gone.

 

"Did the Plenimarans knock down the statues?"

 

Iya chuckled. "No, the defenders on the Palatine dropped them on the enemies' heads." "I never went back," Tamir murmured.

 

"Highness?"

 

Ki understood. The night they'd first come to Ero, Tamir had taken her father's ashes down into the royal crypt and seen her mother's preserved corpse. That had been the only time she'd ventured into the catacombs, avoiding them even on Mourning Night and the other holy days. Ki figured that after living with Brother all these years, she'd had her fill of the dead.

 

And where's he now? he wondered. There'd been no sign of the demon since the unbinding ceremony. All the bits of bone from the doll had burned away with the magic. Perhaps Tamir was finally free of him, as Lhel had promised.

 

And he's free, too. Ki still recalled the look of agony on Brother's face in those final moments. Despite all the fear and pain he'd caused over the years, and the harm he'd tried to do, Ki hoped that the angry spirit had passed the gate at last, for everyone's sake.

 

 

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 3

 

  

 

 

 

The city outside the Palatine was in chaos, the air filled with angry cries and the sound of weeping. The rain had lessened, but ragged clouds still hung low over the city. Fires still raged in some of the wards, and an endless stream of refugees choked the streets. Soldiers stood guard outside the gates, trying to keep people from returning to salvage or loot.

 

Tamir looked around at these people—her people. Most of them had no idea who was passing them tonight. What would they think if they saw her abandoning the capital?

 

"By the Flame, I'm tired of sneaking about in the dark," she muttered, and Ki nodded.

 

Smoldering foundations and lurking freebooters weren't the worst of the dangers in the ruined city. Hundreds of bodies, the victims of battle and plague, lay rotting in the streets, breeding more disease. Most of the Scavengers who tended to such things were dead themselves.

 

Tamir's guard doused their torches once they were free of the city, not wanting to serve as targets for any lurking enemy archers. The north high road was crowded with a dark, seething line of people, horses, and carts of every description stretching away into the night.

 

Have I already failed?'she wondered again.

 

If the Lightbearer wanted a queen so badly, then why had the Immortal chosen such a dark moment to reveal her? She'd put the question to the Afran priest earlier, but Imonus' maddeningly serene smile had been her only an- swer. The priests and wizards were delighted with this turn of events, despite all the suffering that came with it.

 

And yet the sight of all these homeless people left her feeling very small and tired. How was she to help them all? The burden of this new role, and all the uncertainty that came with it, bore down on her like a great weight.

 

"Don't worry," Tharin said quietly. "Things will look better in the morning. The clouds are breaking up. I can see the stars already. See that group over there?" He pointed up at a constellation. "The Dragon. I take that as a good omen, don't you?"

 

Tamir managed a wan smile; the Dragon was one of Illior's signs. She'd been a devotee of Sakor all her life; now every sign and omen seemed to come from the Lightbearer. As if in answer to her thoughts, an owl hooted loudly somewhere off to their right.

 

Imonus caught her eye. "Another good omen, Highness. When you hear the Lightbearer's bird, you salute the god." He showed her how, touching three fingers to his forehead between his brows.

 

Tamir copied the gesture. Ki and Tharin followed suit, then other riders around them who'd heard and seen.

 

Is it because they've accepted Illior's hand in all this, or because they'll follow anything I do?

 

She'd always been in Korin's shadow at court and seen how everyone went along with whatever he did. If that was to be the case, she vowed to set a better example than he had.

 

Duke Illardi and his mounted escort met them on the road. Tamir and the Companions had guested with him often, during the hot days of summer. He was a pleasant, greying fellow, who'd always reminded her a bit of Tharin. "Greetings, Highness," he said, covering his heart with his fist as he bowed from the saddle. "Delighted as I am to offer you hospitality once again, I regret the circumstances." "So do I, your grace. I'm told you're willing to swear fealty to me, and support my claim to the throne?"

 

"I am, Highness. We're an Illioran house and always have been. I think you'll find a good many others around the country who will be glad to see the Lightbearer's prophecy upheld at last."

 

"And plenty who won't," Lord Jorvai put in as they set off again. "The Sakor factions who enjoyed the king's favor won't so readily see his son displaced. Some have already left the city on account of him."

 

"Will it be civil war, then?" Illardi asked.

 

The question sent a chill through Tamir. Forgetting her resentment for a moment, she turned to Iya. "Will Korin fight me for the crown?"

 

"With Niryn still alive and dripping poison in his ear? Yes, I'd say it's likely."

 

"Skalans fighting Skalans? I can't believe that's what the Lightbearer wants of me!"

 

They reached Duke Illardi's estate without challenge. Large beacon fires burned along the tops of the walls, illuminating the archers stationed there.

 

Beyond lay a pleasant, rambling stone villa set on a promontory overlooking the sea. The Plenimarans had attacked as they passed; black-fletched arrows still littered the bailey yard and gardens, but the gates had not been breached.

 

Tamir and the others dismounted at the main entrance to the house. Two pillars carved with Illior's Eye flanked the doorway and a crescent moon decorated the lintel. When they'd visited here in Erius' time, Sakor's Flame had been painted there. Tamir hoped Illardi didn't change his loyalties too quickly, or too often.

 

He'd always been a kind host to the Companions, however, and he seemed sincere now as he bowed and said, "All that is mine is yours, Highness. I've ordered a bath and food prepared. Perhaps you'd prefer to take them in your chambers?"

 

"I would, thank you." Tamir had suffered through enough formalities for one day.

 

He led her to a set of rooms on a terrace facing the sea. Baldus clung to her hand, and Ki and Tharin followed. In addition to the main bedchamber there was a sitting room, dressing room, and antechambers for her guard. In the heat of summer these rooms had been pleasantly cool. Now they were dank despite the candles and hearth fires burning there.

 

"I'll leave you to rest and refresh yourself, Highness," said Illardi. "My servants will bring you anything you require."

 

"I'll see the men settled in," said Tharin, discreetly withdrawing to leave her alone with Ki. "Come, Baldus."

 

Baldus looked panicked and Tamir nodded to him. "You'll attend me."

 

The child gave her a grateful look as he scampered to join them.

 

Despite the damp, the hangings were warmly colorful, and the bedsheets were clean and smelled of sunshine and wind.

 

Baldus looked around the unfamiliar chamber. "What do I do, my lady? I've never attended a girl before."

 

"I have no idea. Help me off with these boots, for starters."

 

She sat down on the edge of the bed and chuckled as the boy struggled with her boots. "I think we could fit your whole family in this bed, Ki."

 

He dropped into a chair and grinned. "And the dogs, too."

 

Baldus gave the boot a final yank and tumbled back, his already dirty tunic covered in mud.

 

Tamir regarded her filthy sock and the rest of her stained clothing with a wry smile. "I don't look much like a lady, do I?" "I don't imagine Queen Gherilain looked much different, after her great battles," said Ki, as Baldus wrestled off her other boot.

 

"I stink, too."

 

"You're not the only one."

 

Ki's hair hung in dirty tangles around his haggard, unshaven face, and the tunic over his hauberk was filthy. They both reeked of blood and battle.

 

Baldus hurried over to the washstand and poured water into the basin. Tamir washed her face and hands. The water was cool and scented with rose petals, but by the time she was done it was stained the color of rust. Baldus emptied the basin out the window and poured fresh for Ki.

 

"Maybe he shouldn't do that," Ki warned. "It might not look right to people, him waiting on your squire, too."

 

"People can go hang," Tamir snorted. "Wash your damn hands." wrestle tables were brought to the terrace. Tamir and her people ate with the duke and his two young sons, Lorin and Etrin. Ki had played with them on their previous visits and found them to be good, solid sorts, and smart.

 

Lorin was a tall, quiet boy a few years younger than Tamir. His brother, who was of an age with Baldus, stared at her wide-eyed throughout the meal, as if expecting her to change form again before his eyes.

 

Baldus staunchly carried out his duties here, too, until Tamir coaxed him into sharing her bench, and made him eat a few morsels from her portion.

 

As soon as the meal was done servants cleared away the dishes and Illardi spread out charts of the harbor to assess the damage.

 

"The Plenimarans knew their job. While the land forces attacked the shoreline, their sailors cast burning pitch on every vessel they could reach and cut the mooring lines. I'm afraid all your warships are at the bottom of the harbor now, or burning on the far reach. Only a few small carracks escaped. Twenty-seven enemy vessels were captured."

 

"Any word of how many ships escaped?" Tamir asked. "The lookouts at Great Head claim no more than ten." "Enough to carry home word of their defeat," Jorvai noted.

 

"Enough to carry word of Ero's weakness, too," Iya warned. "We cannot afford to be taken by surprise again. I have several of my wizards watching the sea, but without knowing where to look, they may not find them. Tell the lookouts to be vigilant, especially in foul weather."

 

Illardi and the others left at last A large bathing tub had been carried in and filled as they dined and Ki eyed it enviously. They'd lived in the saddle for days.

 

"Baldus, go into the corridor and keep watch with the guards for a while," said Tamir. She flopped down on the bed and nodded toward the tub. "You want first go?"

 

"No, you go on—That is—" A week ago Ki wouldn't have thought twice about it. Now he could feel his face going warm. "I should step out—shouldn't I?"

 

It seemed a logical enough conclusion, but Tamir suddenly looked close to tears. "Do I disgust you that much?"

 

"What? No!" he exclaimed, astonished both by the sudden change of mood and that she'd jump to such a harsh conclusion. "How can you think that?"

 

She slumped forward with her face in her hands. "Because that's how I feel. Ever since Atyion, I've felt like I'm trapped in a bad dream and can't wake up. Nothing feels right! I have this empty feeling in my trousers—" Ki saw color rise in her cheeks, too. "And these?" She glared down at the hard little points under the dirty linen of her shirt. "They ache like fire!"

 

Ki found himself looking anywhere but at her. "My sisters said the same when they ripened. It passes as they grow." "Grow?" She looked horrified at the prospect. "But you want to know the worst of it?"

 

She pulled the shirt off over her head, leaving herself naked from the waist up except for her parents' rings on a chain around her neck. Ki hastily averted his eyes again.

 

"That. You can't even look at me, can you? Every day since Atyion I've seen you flinch and turn away."

 

"It's not like that." Ki faced her squarely. He'd seen naked women enough growing up. She didn't look any different than one of his sisters, apart from the mottled bruise on her shoulder where she'd been struck during the first attack on the city. It had faded to a green-and-yellow blotch, stippled at the center with the purpled imprint of the chain mail that had stopped the arrow. "It's—Damn it, I can't explain it. Fact is, you don't look all that different than you did before."

 

"Lying doesn't help, Ki." She hunched in on herself, arms crossed over her tiny breasts. "Illior is cruel. You wouldn't touch me when I was a boy and now that I'm a girl, you can't even look at me." She stood and stripped her breeches off, angrily kicking them aside. "You know a hell of a lot more about girl's bodies than I do. Tell me, do I look like a boy or a girl now?"

 

Ki shuddered inwardly. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with what he saw. The dark sprinkling of hair covering her cunny looked the same as any girl's. No, it was knowing what used to be there that made his belly clench.

 

"Well?" She was still angry, but a tear rolled down her cheek.

 

The sight of it made his heart ache; he knew how much it took to make her cry. "Well, you're still skinny, and your ass has always been kind of flat. But lots of young girls are like that. You're not so old yet to be—ripening." He stopped and swallowed hard. "That is, if you—"

 

"Bleed with the moon?" She didn't look away, but her face went a darker shade of scarlet. "I did, sort of, before the change. Lhel gave me herbs that stopped it, mostly. But I suppose I will now. So now you know it all. These past couple years, you were sleeping with a boy who bled!"

 

"Damn, Tob!" This was too much. Ki sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. "That's what I can't fathom. The not knowing!"

 

She shrugged miserably and reached for the dressing gown someone had left across the end of the bed. It was a lady's gown, velvet trimmed with silver lace and embroidery. Tamir wrapped herself in it and huddled against the bolsters.

 

Ki looked up and blinked in surprise. "There now, that makes a difference."

 

"What?" Tamir muttered.

 

"It makes you look more—girlish." This earned him a dark glare.

 

Determined to make things right between them, he looked around and spied an ivory comb on the dressing table. This must have been a lady's room, or else Illardi's duchess had taken pains to equip it properly. There were pots with fancy lids and little odds and ends he couldn't guess the use of.

 

Taking up the comb, he sat down next to her on the bed and forced a grin. "If I'm to be your tiring woman, Highness, can I fix your hair?"

 

That got him an even blacker look, but after a moment she turned her back to him. He knelt behind her and began working at the tangles, taking it in sections like Nari used to.

 

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to."

 

"What am I up to?"

 

"Currying the skittish horse?"

 

"Well, it needs doing. You're all full of knots."

 

He worked in silence for a while. Tamir had thick hair, and it was almost as black as Alben's, but it wasn't as straight as his. When he was done, it fell in thick waves down her back.

 

Gradually her shoulders relaxed and she sighed. "This isn't my fault, you know? I didn't choose this."

 

"I know that."

 

She looked back over her shoulder. With their faces mere inches apart, he found himself lost for an instant in those sad blue eyes. The color reminded him of the Osiat, the way it looked on a clear day from the headlands at Cirna.

 

"Then what is it?" she demanded. "It feels so different between us now. I hate it!"

 

Caught off guard, Ki let his mouth run away with him and spoke the truth. "Me, too. I guess I just miss Tobin."

 

She turned around and gripped him by the shoulders. "I am Tobin!"

 

He tried to look away, to hide the tears stinging his eyes, but she held him.

 

"Please, Ki, I need you to be the same!"

 

Ashamed of his own weakness, he pried her hands from his shoulders and held them tightly between his own. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. But now, you're—"

 

"Just a girl?"

 

"No. You're to be queen, Tamir. You are already, by right." She tried to pull away, but he held on. "A queen this grass knight can't sleep close with on cold winter nights, or swim with, or wrestle—"

 

"Why not?"

 

It was Ki who pulled away this time, unable to bear the hurt in her eyes. "It wouldn't be proper! Damn it, if you're to be queen, you have to act the part, don't you? You're still a warrior, but you're a woman, too—or a girl, anyway. And boys and girls? They just don't do all that. Not nobles, anyway," he added, blushing. He'd made do with servant girls, just like everyone else, but he'd never felt ashamed of that until now.

 

Tamir sat back, lips set in a grim line, but he could see the corners trembling. "Fine. Leave me, then, while I bathe."

 

"I'll go see how Nik and Tanil are doing. I won't be long."

 

"Take your time."

 

Ki headed for the door. She didn't call him back, just sat there glaring a hole in the bed. Ki slipped out and set the latch softly, his heart in turmoil, then turned to find Tharin and Una watching him expectantly.

 

"She's—uh—going to bathe," Ki mumbled. "I'll be back."

 

Ducking his head, he brushed past them. As he strode away, it felt like a door of a different sort had slammed shut between them, with him on the outside.

 

 fought back more tears as she undressed and slid into the tub. She ducked under the water and briskly rubbed the soap over her hair, but she couldn't escape her thoughts.

 

She'd always been odd, even as Tobin, but Ki had always understood and accepted her. Now it seemed he could only see the stranger she'd become—a homely, scrawny girl he was too embarrassed to look at. She slid a finger through the ring that had been her mother's, gazing down at the profiles of her parents. Her mother had been beautiful, even after she'd gone mad.

 

Maybe if I looked more like her? she wondered glumly. Not much chance of that.

 

She wanted to be angry with Ki, but this sumptuous room suddenly felt too lonely without him. Her gaze strayed to the large bed. She'd seldom slept alone. First there'd been Nari, her nurse, then Ki. She tried to imagine replacing him with Una and cringed, remembering that embarrassing kiss the girl had given her, believing Tobin was just a shy, backward boy. There'd been little time to speak with her since the change, but thanks to Tharin and his organizing, it would be hard to avoid her now. "Bilairy's balls!" she groaned. "What am I going to do?"

 

Survive, Sister. Live for both of us.

 

Tamir sat up so abruptly water sloshed over the side onto the floor. Brother stood before her, a faint but unmistakable shape untouched by the fire or candle glow.

 

"What are you doing here? I thought—I thought you'd gone on."

 

It was hard to look at him now—the image of the young man she thought she'd be. He was as pale as ever, his eyes as flat and black, but otherwise he looked as he would have in life, right down to a faint tracing of dark hair on his upper lip. Suddenly shy under that unblinking gaze, she wrapped her arms around her knees.

 

His hard, whispery voice invaded her mind. You will live, Sister. For both of us. You will rule, for both of us. You owe me a life, Sister.

 

"How do I repay a debt like that?"

 

He just stared.

 

"Why are you still here?" she demanded. "Lhel said you'd be free when I cut out the piece of your bone. The rest of you burned up with the doll. There was nothing left, not even ash."

 

The unavenged dead do not rest.

 

"Unavenged? You were stillborn. They told me."

 

They lied. Learn the truth, Sister. He hissed the last word like a curse.

 

"Can you find Lhel for me? I need her!"

 

The demon shook his head and the hint of a smile on his dead lips sent a chill through her. The bond of skin and bone was sundered. Tamir could no longer command him. The realization frightened her.

 

"Are you here to kill me?" she whispered.

 

Those black eyes went darker still and his smile was poisonous. How many times I wanted to!

 

He advanced, passing through the side of the tub to kneel before her in the water, face inches from her. The water went achingly cold, like the river below the keep in spring. The demon grasped her bare shoulders and his cold fingers bit into her flesh, feeling all too solid. See? I am no helpless shade. I could reach into your chest and squeeze your heart as I did to the fat one who called himself your guardian.

 

She was truly terrified now, more than she ever had been with him. "What do you want, demon?"

 

Your pledge, Sister. Avenge my death.

 

Dreadful realization penetrated the haze of fear. "Who was it? Lhel? Iya?" She swallowed hard. "Father?"

 

The murdered cannot speak the name of their killers, Sister. You must learn that for yourself.

 

"Damn you!"

 

Brother was still smiling as he slowly faded away.

 

The door flew open and Tharin and Una burst in, swords drawn.

 

"What's wrong?" asked Tharin.

 

"Nothing," Tamir said quickly. "I'm fine, just—just thinking out loud."

 

Tharin nodded to Una and she retreated and closed the door. Tharin swept a suspicious eye around the room as he sheathed his sword.

 

"I'm almost done here," she told him, hugging her knees to her chest. "I told Ki he could use the water when I'm done but it's gone cold."

 

Brother had stolen the last of the heat. No, don't think of him right now, and what he'd hinted at. She'd had too much to bear already, without looking for murderers among what was left of her circle of trusted friends.' She clung to the fact that Tharin had not been anywhere near her mother that night. But Iya had, and Arkoniel. Perhaps there had been someone else? It was too painful to contemplate.

 

"That's a long face." Tharin helped her from the tub and wrapped her in a large flannel, rubbing her hair with a corner of it. Tamir dried herself and put on the robe again, not looking at him as she let the flannel drop.

 

When she was dressed, he urged her into bed and pulled the comforter lip around her, then sat down and took her hand. "That's better."

 

His kind, knowing look undid her. She threw her arms around his neck and hid her face against his chest, not caring that he still stank of blood and smoke. "I'm glad you're still with me!"

 

He rubbed her back. "As long as I draw breath."

 

"I'm going to make you a prince of the realm when I'm queen."

 

Tharin chuckled. "Bad enough you've made me a lord. Leave well enough alone."

 

He stroked a wet strand of hair back from her cheek and gave one braid a tug. "You're worried about Ki."

 

Tamir nodded. It was half the truth, anyway.

 

"He didn't look any happier than you when he left." She felt him sigh. "You're determined to keep him by you, aren't you?"

 

"You think I'm wrong?"

 

"No, but you might consider the boy's feelings."

 

"I'd be happy to, if he'd tell me what they are! He treats me like I'm someone else now."

 

"Well, like it or not, you are."

 

"No!"

 

Tharin patted her shoulder. "Maybe just who you were, then, with more added on."

 

"Tits, you mean?"

 

"You call those little flea bites tits?" He laughed at her outraged look. "Yes, your body's changed, and that's something that can't just be pushed aside, especially not by a young man with Ki's hot blood."

 

Tamir looked away, mortified. "I want him to see me as a girl, to like me that way, but then again, I don't. Oh, Tharin, I'm so confused!"

 

"You both need time to know your hearts." " You always treat me just the same."

 

"Well now, it's different with me, isn't it? Boy or girl, you're Rhius' child. But you're not a little one anymore, for me to carry on my shoulder and make toys for. You're my liege and I'm your man. But Ki?" He picked up the discarded flannel and rubbed it over her dripping hair. "I know what your feelings for him have grown to this past year or so. He knows it, too."

 

"But shouldn't that make it easier?"

 

He paused in his drying. "How would you feel if you woke up tomorrow and Ki was a girl?"

 

Tamir blinked up at him through her tangled hair. "It's not the same! That would make things harder between us, like when I was a boy. This way, we can—have each other. If he wants to!"

 

"First he'll have to stop seeing Tobin every time he looks at you. And that won't be easy because he's still looking so hard to see him."

 

"I know. Who do you see, Tharin?"

 

He patted her knee. "I told you. I see my friend's child."

 

"You really loved my father, didn't you?"

 

He nodded. "And he loved me."

 

"But he left you for Mother. Why didn't you stop loving him then?"

 

"Sometimes love can change its form rather than end. That's what happened with your father."

 

"But your feelings never changed, did they?"

 

"No."

 

She was old enough now to guess at what he was leaving unsaid. "Didn't it hurt?"

 

She'd never seen the sorrow more clearly in his face, or the sharp edge of anger that came with it when he nodded and replied softly, "Like fire, at first, and for a long time after. But not enough to drive me away, and I can say now that I'm glad. There was a time when I'd have answered differently. I was a grown man by then, and I had my pride."

 

"Why did you stay?"

 

"He asked me to."

 

She'd never heard him say so much before. "I always wondered—"

 

"What?"

 

"After Mama got sick and turned against him, were—were you and Father ever lovers again?"

 

"Certainly not!"

 

"I'm sorry. That was rude." Still, something in that last response intrigued her—a flash of pride. She wondered what it meant but knew better than to ask. "So what do I do about Ki?"

 

"Give him time. Ki could never have loved you the way you wanted as Tobin. It just isn't in him. But he suffered over it, and now he's suffering over the loss of who you two were together." He draped the flannel over her shoulder. "Let him heal a while. You can do that for him, can't you?"

 

She nodded. Of course she could. But that didn't make her feel any better tonight. "Is he out there?"

 

"He went off by himself, but he'll be back."

 

"We'll need more hot water for sure, then," Tamir mused. "Should I leave while he bathes?"

 

Tharin shrugged. "It would be polite to ask."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 4

 

  

 

 

 

The courtyard was filled with soldiers and servants. Ki kept to the shadows and went to the new stone stable, where the wounded were being tended.

 

Illardi bred fine horses from Aurenfaie stock; his stable was far nicer than the house where Ki had been born, and considerably larger. Inside, Ki could just make out rafters and dressed stone at the edge of the lamplight. It smelled of new wood and fresh straw, but also of blood and wounds, and herbs being burned or brewed on the braziers. Half a dozen drysian healers were at work, wearing bloodstained aprons over their long brown robes.

 

People lay everywhere on makeshift pallets, looking like bundles of laundry laid out for washing day. Ki picked his way among them, looking for Nikides and Tanil. One of the healers noticed him and came over.

 

"Lord Kirothieus, are you seeking the Companions?" she asked. "We put them together, over there in that stall at the end."

 

He found Nikides propped up in a deep bed of new straw. Another figure sat huddled in a far corner of the stall, muffled in several blankets. Even his head was covered.

 

"Tanil?" When Ki moved closer, the squire let out a soft moan and cowered deeper into the shadows. Ki settled back on his heels. "It's all right. You're safe here."

 

Tanil said nothing, just curled more tightly in on himself.

 

"Ki, is that you?" It was a papery whisper. Ki turned to find Nikides awake and blinking up at him. "Yes. How are you?"

 

"Better, I think. Where are we?"

 

"At Duke Illardi's estate."

 

"Illardi?" Nikides glanced around in confusion. "But I thought—I dreamed I was at the Old Palace. There were people dying around me. I thought I saw you—and Tobin."

 

"It was no dream. We had you moved here. Lynx is still with us, too, and came through without a damn scratch! I think he and I are the only ones who did. And Una, too. Remember her?"

 

Nikides brightened at that. "She's alive?"

 

"Yes. She ran off and joined up with my sister Ahra's riders. She learned her lessons well. She's a blooded warrior already."

 

"So there are some of us left, after all."

 

"Yes. What happened with you, Nik?"

 

Nikides tried to sit up and groaned. "I told them I was never cut out to be a warrior." With Ki's help he managed to prop himself against the wall. "I was with Korin. We were trying to get him away—" He closed his eyes against some painful memory. "I didn't see the archer until it was too late."

 

"You were lucky. The shaft missed your lung."

 

Nikides shifted again and caught sight of the huddled figure in the corner. "Who's that?"

 

"Tanil."

 

"Thank the Four, we thought you were dead! Tanil? Ki, what's wrong with him?"

 

"He was captured." Ki leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Tortured, and—well, raped, like they do. We found him planked up against a barn north of the city."

 

Nikides' eyes widened. "Maker's Mercy!"

 

"He's in bad shape. Tamir wanted him kept close to you."

 

"Tamir?" Ki sighed. "Tobin, that is. You saw her back at the palace, remember? You spoke to her."

 

"Ah. I thought I'd dreamed that, too."

 

"No dream. A prophecy fulfilled, or so they say."

 

"Then Skala has a queen again!" Nikides whispered. "If only Grandfather had lived to see it." He fell silent a moment. "So, how is Tobin? Princess Tamir, I mean."

 

"She's fine."

 

"She." Nikides murmured, "It's going to take some getting used to, isn't it? Tell me, how did it happen?"

 

Ki gave him a quick summary. "It was magic, but not like anything I'd ever heard of before. But I saw her myself, naked as the dawn, and it's no trick. She's Tamir now; Tamir Ariani Gherilain."

 

"A good name."

 

Nikides was taking it very well, Ki thought sourly.

 

"Amazing, isn't it, that the queen the Illiorans have been whispering about all these years was hiding right in plain sight?"

 

"Amazing, all right." The bitterness in his voice left Nikides speechless for a moment.

 

"And Ero?" he asked at last.

 

"We drove the enemy out, but the city's pretty near ruined." Ki clasped his shoulder. "I'm sorry about your grandfather. I'm told he died defending the palace."

 

"Yes. I'll miss him, but it was an honorable death."

 

"What can you tell me about Korin? Do you know where they went?"

 

"They haven't come back?"

 

"No. What happened?"

 

"The enemy had broken through our last defenses. They were everywhere, killing and burning. Master Porion and Captain Melnoth organized the retreat, with what soldiers they had left to cover their escape. I was unlucky, that's all, and got cut off."

 

"And they just left you?"

 

"You can't blame Lutha, if that's what you're thinking." He paused and Ki saw a look of pain in his eyes. "I saw him looking back at me, shouting something. He wanted to go back for me, but of course, he couldn't. His duty was to Korin."

 

"I would have, Nik. So would Tamir."

 

Nikides shook his head. "I wouldn't have wanted you to. Duty first, in all things. That's what Master Porion would tell you, too."

 

Ki kept his arguments to himself for now. Nikides was still too ill to fully appreciate the situation. "Do you know where Korin was headed?"

 

"No. Niryn just said to get him out of the city. We were trying for the west gate when I lost them."

 

"The wizard was giving the orders?"

 

"Korin wouldn't listen to anyone else by then, not even Cal."

 

The drysian who'd spoken with Ki earlier came back just then and put her ear to Nikides' chest. She looked pleased with what she heard. "You're a lucky fellow, my lord. A few days more and you should be on your feet again, though it will take time to fully heal. I'll send someone over with broth. See that he eats, won't you, Lord Kirothieus?"

 

"I will." Ki grinned at his friend. "Not that we ever had any trouble getting you to eat."

 

Nikides made a rude gesture, then looked over at Tanil again. He'd stirred when the drysian came, and appeared to be awake. "Hello, Tanil. I'm glad you're here. Are you hungry?"

 

Tanil shook his head and the blanket fell back from his face.

 

"Bilairy's balls!" Nikides gasped softly.

 

The young squire's face was still badly swollen and discolored from the beating, and his dark hair hung in lank strands around his shoulders. His braids had been cut off, too. Worst of all, though, was his vacant, frightened expression. He hunched in on himself, arms crossed tight across his chest. Livid bruises covered his bare shoulders, and his wrists were wrapped with bloodstained linen. He gave them a confused look, then hid his face against his knees.

 

"Poor fellow," Nikides whispered sadly.

 

"And he was one of the lucky ones," Ki replied softly, leaving it unsaid that his captors had been about to gut him when Tamir and her forces showed up. "The wounds in his wrists aren't so bad. The healers say he'll probably have the use of his hands again when they heal."

 

He spoke lightly, but he and Nikides exchanged a knowing look. Wounds to the body were nothing to a warrior, but to be so dishonored and left crippled? It would have been kinder if the bastards had killed him.

 

The drysian woman returned with two bowls of strong-smelling broth. Nikides took a sip from his and wrinkled his nose. "Horse meat!"

 

"Plenty of that about," Ki said, moving slowly and carefully to sit by Tanil. He held out the bowl. "It stinks, but it'll put strength back into you. Come on now, try a little. It's me, see? Nobody's going to hurt you. Nik's here, too."

 

Tanil regarded them with empty eyes, then a hint of recognition seemed to dawn. He let Ki hold the bowl to his lips and managed a few sips before he gagged and turned his face away.

 

Nikides gamely downed his portion and put the bowl aside with a grimace of distaste. "You haven't said what happened to you, since you left Ero."

 

Ki quickly outlined the chaos of the past few days. "Tharin's reorganized the remains of the old Alestun guard, along with Lynx and some of the warriors from Atyion, into a new guard for Tamir," Ki said, all the while coaxing Tanil to drink more of the broth. "We've got Lord Jorvai, and Kyman of Hear on our side already, and Illardi, and more who swore fealty after the battle. Not everyone is supporting Tamir, though." "That's to be expected," Nikides said, looking thoughtful. "Well, you can count me in as another loyal man, for whatever it's worth."

 

"Even over your Companion's oath? She'll send you back to Korin if that's what you want."

 

"No. I won't say it doesn't hurt, but in my heart I know it's the right thing. Erius broke with the prophecy, and where did that get us? If Illior has made Tobin into a queen, then who am I to argue? So, how can I help?"

 

Ki clasped his friend's hand and smiled. "Get your strength back and keep an eye on Tanil for me. Well, I better get back. Take care of yourself and do as the healers tell you." i felt a bit better for seeing his friend awake, but returned to the house unsure of his welcome. He felt bad about how things had gone earlier and was anxious to put it right.

 

Tamir was sitting on the bed reading a letter. She had on a long linen shirt under the dressing gown, and her damp hair hung loose over her shoulders. Baldus was curled up asleep on his pallet by the door.

 

She looked up as he came in, and he could tell she was trying to gauge his mood, too.

 

"I just saw Nik and Tanil."

 

"How are they?"

 

"Nik's mending. Tanil's not doing so well. His spirit's broken."

 

"I don't wonder. I'll go see him tomorrow." She gestured casually at the tub. "I had more warm water brought in." She paused, looking uneasy again. "I can go in the sitting room—"

 

"Whatever you like," Ki answered too quickly. Did she want to stay, or go? He was damned if he could tell. He had the feeling that no matter what he did, it would be wrong. When it came right down to it, though, she'd seen him naked so often that that didn't make a bit of differ- ence. All he wanted right now was hot water and a clean bed. "I don't mind either way."

 

After all the earlier embarrassment, he'd expected her to leave. Instead, she shrugged and went back to the letter.

 

Suit yourself, he thought, wondering at this new shift in the wind. He stripped and sank gratefully into the tub. It wasn't very hot, but it was the cleanest water he'd seen in days. Settling back, he went to work with the soap and sponge.

 

As he washed, he found himself glancing over at Tamir. She was still engrossed in that letter. He ducked his head, rinsing lather from his hair, and looked up to find her still staring down at the parchment. It was only a single sheet. It couldn't be taking her that long to read it.

 

"What's that you're looking at?" he asked.

 

She glanced up with a guilty start and colored a little, as if he'd caught her staring. Damn, this was strange!

 

"A letter from Lady Myna of Tynford, offering fealty," she told him.

 

"Already? Word travels fast."

 

She tossed the letter aside and stretched out on her stomach, chin propped on one hand. "I can't stop thinking about Korin. A retreat's one thing, but for him to just run off like that and leave the city open to the enemy? That doesn't seem right."

 

"I'm sure he had his reasons at the time." Cowardice, most likely, he thought, scrubbing at a bloodstain on his left knee.

 

Tamir stared off at nothing for a moment, brow knitted in thought. "Damn that Niryn! It has to be him, weakening Kor's mind."

 

"I don't doubt it. But maybe Korin wasn't too hard to sway, either." So much for tact.

 

Tamir gave him a wry look. "I know, Ki. You were right about him all along, but I still say there's good in him, too. Once we know where he is, I'll call for a parley. There's got to be some way to resolve this, short of war!" "I admit I don't much like the idea of facing friends on the battlefield. Not even Alben or Mago. Well, maybe Mago."

 

That earned him a fleeting grin. Ki stood up and reached for the dry flannel by the tub, noting how she averted her eyes. He quickly wrapped the cloth around his waist and looked around for something to put on besides his own filthy clothes.

 

Someone had laid out clean garments for him, too. The long linen shirt had white silk embroidery around the neck and gathered cuffs. He pulled it over his head, then stood there with the breeches in his hand, unsure what to do next.

 

He looked up at Tamir again and saw the same confusion. They both wanted this to be simple, like nothing had changed.

 

She shrugged, not quite looking at him. "Stay?"

 

"All right." But he pulled on the breeches anyway, then blew out all but one lamp. He returned uncertainly to the bed, wondering if he should sleep on the floor with Baldus. Tamir was under the covers now, with the coverlet pulled up to her nose. He could just see her dark eyes watching him expectantly.

 

Still uncertain, he wrapped himself in a spare blanket and settled on the far edge of the bed. They lay facing each other, faces half-shadowed in the soft glow of the night lamp. Less than two arms span separated them, but it felt like a mile.

 

After a moment, Tamir reached out to him. He laced his fingers with hers, glad of the contact. Her fingers were warm and sun-browned from days in the saddle, not soft and pale like the girls he'd bedded. Those hands had trembled, or caressed. Tamir held his hand firm and sure, same as always. It made Ki feel very odd inside, even as he watched her eyes drift shut and her face relax in sleep. With her face pressed into the pillow and her hair spilled across her cheek like that, she looked like Tobin again.

 

He waited until he was certain she was really asleep, then let go of her hand and rolled on his back, teetering on the edge of the mattress and longing for the nights when they'd so innocently slept warm in each other's arms.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 5

 

  

 

 

 

In the dream she was still Tobin who'd lived at the keep, and the tower door was never locked.

 

He climbed the stairs to his mother's ruined sitting room at the top and found Brother waiting for him. Hand in hand, the twins climbed onto the ledge of the window that looked west toward the mountains. Between the tips of his boots, Tobin saw the river below, surging black beneath the ice like a great serpent trying to break free.

 

The grip on his hand tightened; it was his mother with him now, not Brother. Ariani was pale and bloody, but she smiled as she stepped off the ledge, pulling Tobin down with her.

 

But Tobin didn't fall. He flew up into the sky and far over the mountains to a cliff above the dark Osiat Sea. Looking back over his shoulder he saw the now-familiar hills, and snowy peaks beyond. As always in this dream, the robed man stood off in the distance, waving to him. Would he ever see the man's face?

 

Then Ki appeared at Tobin's side and took his hand, drawing him to the brink of the cliff to show him the fine harbor that lay below. Tobin could see their faces reflected down there, side by side, like a miniature painted on silver foil.

 

Tamir had experienced this dream so often now that she knew she was dreaming, and turned all the more eagerly to Ki. Perhaps this time …

 

But as always, she woke with a start before their lips could touch. Ki lay curled up on the far side of the bed, and opened his eyes as soon as she stirred. "You were restless. Did you sleep at all?"

 

"Yes. And now I'm starving." She lay there, watching with bittersweet fondness as Ki yawned and stretched and rubbed his eyes. He'd left the front of his shirt unlaced and she could see the little horse charm she'd made him soon after they'd met, still hanging around his neck on its chain. He'd never taken it off since she'd given it to him, not even in the bath. For a fleeting moment it could have been any morning in the old days, the two of them waking up together to face a new day.

 

The illusion shattered as quickly as her dream had when he got up so quickly and made his way barefoot to the door.

 

"I'll go find us something to eat," he said, not looking back. "I'll knock before I come back in."

 

Tamir sighed, guessing he was anxious to give her time to get dressed.

 

A moment later there was a knock at the door and Lady Una stepped in, still in her mud-stained tunic and boots. She wore a new baldric with the colors of Tamir's guard.

 

Baldus woke at last and sat up, rubbing his eyes.

 

"Go find yourself some breakfast," Tamir told the boy.

 

"Yes, Highness." The boy yawned and gave Una a curious look, his eyes lingering admiringly on her sword. Then he recognized her and made her a hasty bow. "Lady Una!"

 

Una looked down at the boy, then gave a little cry of surprise. She knelt and took his hand. "You're Lady Erylin's son, aren't you? I bet you know my brother Atmir. He's Duchess Malia's page at court."

 

"Yes, lady! We have lessons together, and sometimes we play—" Baldus trailed off and his face fell. "Well, we did—before."

 

"Have you seen him, since the attack?" He shook his head sadly. "I haven't seen any of my friends since the enemy came."

 

Una's kind smile couldn't cover her disappointment. "Well, I'm glad you're safe. If I see him, I'll tell him you're looking for him."

 

"Thank you, my lady." Baldus bowed to Tamir and went out.

 

Una straightened to attention. "Forgive me, Highness. I didn't mean to be rude. It's just that I've had no word of any of my family."

 

"No need to apologize. Poor Baldus. He doesn't really understand what's happened. I hope you both find your kin." She paused expectantly. "Why are you here?"

 

Una began to look uncomfortable. "Lord Tharin thought you might need assistance, Highness."

 

Suddenly self-conscious to be sitting there in nothing but a woman's nightgown, Tamir found the robe and wrapped herself in it. "Better?"

 

Una made her another hasty bow. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to say to you, really, or how to act."

 

"You and everyone else!" Tamir spread her arms. "Well, here I am. Take a good look."

 

Una blushed. "It's not that. You know, when I threw myself at you and kissed you that time? If I'd known, I'd never have done such a thing."

 

Tamir still blushed at the memory. "It wasn't your fault. Hell, I didn't know either back then. Believe me, I don't hold it against you. Let's just forget it." She raked a hand absently back through her tangled hair. "Look at you now, a warrior, after all! I guess those sword-fighting lessons were useful, after all."

 

"It was a good start," said Una, obviously relieved by the change of subject. "Although I think I was the only girl who wasn't there just to make eyes at the boys."

 

Ki hadn't minded that at all, Tamir recalled. She pushed that thought aside at once. "So, Captain Ahra finished your education?" "Yes. I remembered Ki's stories about his sister, so I rode for Lord Jorvai's holding the night I ran away and found her. I put all my trust in her, and she promised to make a soldier of me. Her methods weren't quite as refined as yours, though." Una grinned. "I must admit, I was a bit surprised when I met her. She's much—rougher than Ki."

 

Tamir laughed outright at that. "I've met his whole family, and that's a very forgiving assessment. But tell me, why did you run away like that? There were rumors that you'd been killed by the king, or your father."

 

"That's not far from the truth. Father was terrified of losing favor with your uncle. He beat me and said I was to be sent off to live with some ancient aunt in the central islands until he could marry me off. So I ran away. All I took was this." She touched her sword hilt. "It was my grandmother's. Mother gave it to me with her blessing when I left. But things are different now, aren't they? Women can be warriors again, even noblewomen."

 

"Yes, even nobles."

 

Forgetting her breeches and sword, Una made her a graceful curtsy. "You have my loyalty until death, Highness."

 

Tamir bowed. "And I accept it. Now tell me honestly, do you think I look much like a girl?"

 

"Well—Perhaps if you combed your hair? And didn't scowl so much?"

 

Tamir let out an unladylike snort, noting with a twinge of envy that Una really was quite pretty, with her smooth, dark hair and oval face.

 

Baldus peeked in just then. "It's Mistress Iya, Highness. She wants to come in."

 

Tamir frowned at the intrusion, but nodded.

 

Iya wore a gown of fine brown wool and a fancy leather girdle, and her long grey hair was combed loose over her shoulders, making her look younger and less severe than usual. She was carrying what looked like several dresses over one arm. "Hello, Una. Good morning, Highness. Ki said you were awake. I hope you rested well?"

 

Tamir shrugged, eyeing the gowns with suspicion.

 

Iya smiled and held them up. "I've come to help you dress."

 

"I'm not wearing those!"

 

"I'm afraid you must. There are already enough rumors flying about saying you're only a boy playing at being a girl, without you adding to them. Please, Tamir, you must trust me in this. There's nothing shameful about wearing a dress, is there, Lady Una? It hasn't stopped you being a soldier."

 

"No, Mistress." Una shot Tamir an apologetic glance.

 

But there was still too much of Tobin in her for Tamir to give in so easily. "Ki and Tharin will laugh their heads off—and the rest of my guard, too! Damn it, Iya, I've worn breeches all my life. I'll trip on the skirts. I'll turn my ankles in slippers and look a fool!"

 

"All the more reason for you to get used to them now, before you have a great crowd of nobles and generals to impress. Come now, don't make such a fuss."

 

"I won't ride in a gown," Tamir warned. "And I sure as hell won't ride sidesaddle! I don't give a damn what anyone says."

 

"Should a princess use such rough language?" asked Una, trying to stifle a smile and failing.

 

"One step at a time," said Iya. "Besides, her grandmothers all swore like Scavenger men. Queen Marnil could make generals blush. For today, let's just concentrate on appearances. Duchess Kallia will send her dressmaker to you. In the meantime, she was good enough to lend you some of her eldest daughter's gowns. The two of you are close in size."

 

Tamir blushed as she took off the nightgown, then felt a perfect fool as Iya and Una helped her into a linen shift and pulled a heavy green satin dress down over her head. "What do you think of this one, before we lace it up?" asked Iya, turning her to face the mirror.

 

"I hate it!" Tamir snapped, barely glancing at her reflection.

 

"I admit that's not a good color for you. Makes you look sallow. But you must wear something, and these are all we have."

 

Tamir discarded one after another, grudgingly settling at last on a high-necked hunting gown of dark blue wool, mostly because it was plainer than any of the others, shorter in the front, and cut loose for easy movement. The laced sleeves were tied on at the shoulder, letting her move her arms easily. The style also allowed her to wear her boots rather than the soft shoes Iya had brought. When Una had laced it up, it was still loose through the bodice, but not as uncomfortable as she'd expected.

 

"This goes with it, I believe." Iya handed her a leather girdle embossed with leaves and flowers. It fastened with a golden clasp and hung low on her slim hips, with a long gold-tipped end that hung down the front of the gown to her knees. Tamir picked it up, impressed with the workmanship. "This looks like Ylanti work."

 

"You always did have an eye for fine things." Una pulled out the sword pendant Tamir had made for her a few years earlier. "Are you still making jewelry?"

 

Tamir looked up, chagrined at being caught liking any part of this ridiculous outfit. "All my tools were lost in Ero."

 

"You'll find more, I'm sure," said Iya. "You have the gift. You mustn't ignore it. Now Una, see what you can do with that hair. My horse's tail looks better."

 

Tamir sat fidgeting as Una combed her hair. "Nothing too fancy. I don't want to be fussing with it all the time like—like some girl!"

 

Una and Iya both chuckled at that.

 

"There's no reason you can't wear it as you always have," Una told her, deftly replaiting the warrior braids. "All the women soldiers I know wear their hair loose, or in a long braid in back to keep it out of their faces. Let's see how that looks." She plaited Tamir's hair back into a thick braid, then took a bit of red leather thong from her belt pouch. "See, no ribbons. And I promise not to make a bow, either. There. Have a look."

 

Tamir faced the mirror again and was rather surprised at what she saw. "Hand me my sword belt."

 

She buckled it on over the girdle, then checked her re-flection again. The gown was actually rather flattering, making her look slender rather than skinny and angular. The small side braids and the sword still marked her as a warrior, but she looked less boyish than she had. She made an effort not to scowl. No one would call her a beauty, that was for certain, but her eyes seemed bluer, accented by the gown.

 

"I've been saving something for you. Your father entrusted it to me, years ago." Iya produced a thin golden circlet from the folds of her robe and presented it to Tamir. It was beautiful, and very simple, just a band of gold engraved with a stylized wave pattern. "That's Aurenfaie work. It was your mother's."

 

Tamir started to put it on, but Una stopped her. "No, it won't look right with your hair back. Let me."

 

She undid the large braid and combed the hair out with her fingers. Then she lifted the top layer and drew it up through the circlet before settling the ring around Tamir's brow. She let the hair fall back over it, so that only the section of the band across Tamir's brow showed. She smoothed the small braids back into place. "There! Now people will know you're a princess."

 

Tamir pulled the gold chain from around her neck and broke it, slipping off the two rings. She placed her father's heavy black signet on her right forefinger, and the amethyst portrait ring on her left ring finger, where it fit perfectly. When she studied her reflection again, her expression was softer, almost wondering. This time, a girl was looking back at her, even if she did still feel like a boy in a dress.

 

Iya stood just behind her, one hand covering her mouth and a suspicious brightness in her eyes. "Oh, my dear girl, look at you—the true warrior queen returned at last. Una, call in Ki and Tharin, and Arkoniel, too, if he's out there."

 

Tamir stood nervously by the mirror as the men came in, with Baldus on their heels.

 

"You look pretty!" the little boy exclaimed.

 

"Thank you." Tamir glared at Tharin and Ki, daring them to laugh.

 

"The lad's right," Tharin said, coming to her and turning her this way and that. "By the Flame! What do you say, Ki? Our girl polishes up well, doesn't she?"

 

Ki had been staring at her all this time, not saying a word. At last he gave her a doubtful nod. "Better."

 

"Better?" Tamir's heart sank a little and she hated herself for it. Not in a dress for an hour yet and she was already acting like those girls at court!

 

"No, really," Ki said quickly. "You're much prettier with your hair fixed and all. That dress suits you, too. I bet you could fight in it if you had to."

 

Tamir drew her sword and made a swift series of thrusts and feints. The skirts swirled around her legs, and she caught the hem with her bootheel once or twice. "It needs to be shorter."

 

"You'll start a new fashion," Tharin said, grinning.

 

Una laughed. "Or a scandal!"

 

"Yes, it might be better if you put on breeches to fight," mused Iya. "Failing that, though, if you're caught off guard, try this." She swept up the right side of her long skirt and tucked the hem into her girdle. "It's easier to run like this, too."

 

Tamir groaned, imagining a life hampered by gowns.

 

"Come along, Highness. Your court awaits," Iya told her. "Let them see their queen and spread the word."

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 6

 

  

 

 

 

Tamir's first official audience was held in the villa courtyard. Flanked by her friends and new guard, she entered the winter-brown gardens to find a restless crowd of warriors, wizards, and frightened guild masters awaiting her, anxious for news.

 

She looked around, searching out familiar faces, and spotted Nikides slumped in an armchair near the fountain, talking with Lynx and Iya.

 

"I didn't expect to see you up and around yet," she exclaimed, oblivious to all the eyes following her as she strode over to give him an awkward hug.

 

"Healer's orders," he rasped. His round, unshaven face was parchment pale, but his eyes were shining with wonder as he stared at her.

 

She took his hand. "I'm so sorry about your grandfather. We could do with his counsel now."

 

He nodded sadly. "He would have served you, and so will I." He looked more closely at her. "You really are a girl. By the Light, I wanted to believe it, but it didn't seem possible. I hope you'll make me your court historian. I believe there are going to be wondrous things to record."

 

"The post is yours. But I'm also in need of Companions. I'd like you and Lynx to be the first, along with Ki, of course."

 

Nikides laughed. "Are you sure you want me? You already know what a poor swordsman I am."

 

"You have other talents." She turned to Lynx. His dark eyes were still haunted, even when he smiled. "What about you?" "Be Lord Nikides' squire, you mean? Lord Tharin did suggest it."

 

"No. You're my friend, and you've stood by me. I'm raising you to full Companion. You'll both have to find squires of your own."

 

Lynx blinked at her in surprise. "I'm honored, Highness, and you have my loyalty always! But you do know my father was only a knight? I'm a second son, with no holdings of my own."

 

Tamir faced the assembly, hand on her sword hilt. "You all heard that, I suppose? Well, listen well. Loyal men and women who serve me well will be judged on their merits, not by their birth. There's not a noble in Skala whose ancestors were born with circlets on their heads. If it is Illior's will that I rule Skala, then I want it known that I look to people's hearts and acts, not their birth. Nikides, you can record that as one of my first decrees if you like."

 

She couldn't tell if he was coughing or laughing as he bowed to her from his chair. "I shall make a note of it, Highness."

 

"Let it be known that anyone I choose to elevate will be accorded as much respect as a noble of six generations. By the same token, I won't think twice about taking away the title and holdings of those who prove themselves unworthy."

 

She caught warning looks from Tharin and Iya, but most of the crowd cheered.

 

She turned to Una next. "What do you say, Lady Una? Will you join our ranks too?"

 

Una fell to one knee and offered her sword. "With all my heart, Highness!"

 

"That's settled, then."

 

Lynx knelt, too, and she drew her sword again and touched him on the shoulder. "I name you Lord—Wait, what's your real name?"

 

Nikides seemed about to supply that bit of information, but Lynx stopped him with a sharp glance. "I've been called Lynx for so long, it feels like my true name. I'd remain so, if that's acceptable."

 

"As you like," said Tamir. "I name you Lord Lynx, with lands and holdings to be determined later. Lady Una, I also accept your fealty. Your first charge as my Companions is to take good care of my royal chronicler. And yourselves," she added with a warning look at Lynx.

 

Lynx gave her a guilty nod. "Bilairy doesn't seem to want me yet, Highness."

 

"Good. I can't spare you."

 

With that settled, she took the chair that had been set out for her and turned her attention to the assembled nobles. "My friends, I thank all of you for what you've done. I'll be honest with you, as well. I don't know exactly what's going to happen next: It seems I must go against my cousin, and anyone who upholds Korin's claim to the throne. I do not want a civil war, but it could come to that. If any of you has had second thoughts about backing me, you're free to go. No one will stop you. But go now."

 

Silence greeted this offer, and no one moved. After a moment Lord Jorvai came forward and knelt before her, offering his sword. "I swore fealty to you on the battlefield, Highness, but I do so again before these witnesses. Accept Colath as your sworn ally."

 

"And Illear," Kyman said.

 

One by one, all the others reasserted their oaths. No one left.

 

Tamir stood and raised her hand to them. "I don't hold the Sword of Gherilain, or wear the crown, but with the authority of Illior and before these witnesses, I accept your fealty, confirm your holdings, and count you as my dear friends. I will never forget the sight of your banners coming to my aid when I needed you most." When she'd finished with the oaths, Tamir turned to the guild masters and mistresses who'd been waiting nervously for her attention. One after the other, men and women wearing the insignias of their offices knelt and pledged the loyalty of their guilds. Butchers, smiths, carters, bakers, masons—it seemed an endless stream, but Tamir was glad for a chance to mark the leaders of the city's common classes.

 

Finally, with the sun almost at midday, she came to Iya and the wizards.

 

"Your valor during the battle will not be forgotten. My lords and good people, I ask you to honor these brave wizards."

 

The throng bowed or cheered with varying degrees of enthusiasm. In spite of all the wizards had done, she knew that Niryn and his Harriers had left a bad taste in the mouths of many—one that made them regard all wizards with a degree of suspicion. In fact, the free wizards of Skala had always had a mixed reputation. For every grave and serious wizard like Iya, or kindly one like Arkoniel, there were a hundred ha'penny cheats and market fair conjurers. And there were those who, like Niryn, attached themselves to the rich and powerful for their own ends. While Tamir had her own reasons for mistrust, she owed a great deal already to the nineteen wizards Iya presented.

 

Some wore robes, but most were dressed like merchants or minor nobles. Others looked like humble travelers, and at least half of them bore wounds from the battle. She was glad to see the fair-haired young mind-clouder, Eyoli, among them. He'd helped her reach Atyion during the battle and nearly lost his life in the process.

 

Two of the wizards presented, Dylias and Zagur, looked as old as Iya. Kiriar and a very pretty woman introduced as Elisera of Almak, appeared to be Arkoniel's age, although Tamir knew enough of wizards to realize that their true ages were as hard to guess as any Aurenfaie's.

 

The last woman presented was by far the most intriguing. Grey-eyed Saruel of Khatme was Aurenfaie, and wore the elaborate red-and-black headcloth, or sen'gai, and the black robes of her people. The fine black facial tattoos and jewelry that also distinguished that clan made her age difficult to guess at, and since Aurenfaie aged even more slowly than Skalan wizard-born, the guess would probably have been wrong.

 

Tamir's friend, Arengil of Gedre, had taught her something of his people's ways. "May Aura be with you in the light, Saruel of Khatme," she said, placing her hand over her heart and bowing.

 

Saruel solemnly returned the gesture, her head tilted a bit to the left, as if she had trouble hearing. "And in the darkness, Tamir a Ariani Agnalain of Skala."

 

"I thought all the 'faie left Ero when the Harriers began burning wizards and priests?"

 

"I was one of those who shared the vision given to Mistress Iya. Aura Illustri, known to you as Illior Lightbearer, smiles upon you. Your uncle committed great evils upon your land and spat in the face of our god. You are the light sent to drive away the darkness spread by the Usurper and his dark wizards. It is my duty, and my great honor, to support you in whatever way I can."

 

"I welcome your aid and your wisdom." Such pledges were never lightly made to outsiders—Tirfaie, as the Aurenfaie called short-lived humankind. "Mistress Iya, how should I reward you and your people for your service?"

 

"We are not tradesmen or mercenaries, come to present a bill, Highness. You know of my vision about you, yet you don't know the extent of what I've done to bring that vision to fruition.

 

"While you grew, Arkoniel and I traveled this land, seeking out others who'd had been granted so much as a glimpse of that same vision. Some of them stand here before you now. Others await word to join us and aid you. Not all of them are powerful, but the Lightbearer has called them nonetheless, to protect you, the queen who must be.

 

"I tell you now, before all these witnesses, that we were not charged by the Lightbearer simply to help you to this point, then walk away—"

 

"That's the same sort of talk we heard from that traitor Niryn, when he gathered his gang together," Kyman interrupted. "He claimed they were serving the throne, too. I mean no disrespect to you, Mistress, or any of your friends, nor do I discount what you've done. But I'm not the only Skalan who's a bit skittish, seeing too many of your kind together in one place again." He turned and bowed deeply to Tamir. "Forgive my plain speech, Highness, but it's the truth."

 

"I know better than you what Niryn did, my lord. Mistress Iya, what is it you're proposing?"

 

"I understand the fears Niryn and his ilk have bred," she replied calmly. "My 'kind' and I know still better than you, Highness, or anyone else here, the evil the Harriers practiced."

 

She reached into a fold of her gown and held up a large silver brooch inset with the copper flame of Sakor. "The Harriers imposed these on us." The others held up brooches of their own, all except Arkoniel and Eyoli. Numbers were stamped on the back of each, a different one for each wizard. Iya's was marked 222.

 

"They listed us in their ledgers like cattle." Iya tossed the brooch on the pavement at her feet. The other wizards did the same, making a small, glittering pile. "Every free wizard in Ero was made to wear one of these," she went on bitterly. "Those who resisted burned. Wizards who'd sworn to aid you were among them, Highness. I felt the flames as they died. Niryn meant to teach us our place, teach us to fear, but instead, he made me remember something. "Most wizards are solitary by nature, it's true, but in the time of your ancestor and the Great War, many of us came together with the queen and fought against the Plenimarans and their necromancers. The great chroniclers of that age credit them with stemming the tide of war.

 

"Niryn and his white-robed murderers reminded me what wizards can accomplish by joining forces. If the Harriers could create such power for evil, then isn't great good also possible? I swear to you by our most sacred oath, Highness—by Illior's Light and by my hands, heart, and eyes—that the wizards who stand before you today seek to forge a union for the good of Skala, as in the days of your ancestor, and to support you, Illior's chosen one. We have no greater desire than that. With your permission, we would demonstrate our good faith and the power of unity before these 'witnesses."

 

"Go ahead."

 

Iya and the others formed a circle around the cast-off brooches. Iya raised her hands over them and the metal melted into a steaming puddle. Dylias waved a hand and the metal formed into a perfect sphere. At Kiriar's command it floated up to eye level. Zagur made a sigil on the air with a polished wooden wand and the sphere flattened to a disk, forming itself into a silver mirror. Saruel stepped forward and wove a pattern on the air and the edges were transformed into a delicate frame of Aurenfaie floral tracery. Finally, Arkoniel cast a spell on the air, opening a small black portal. The mirror disappeared into it and dropped out of thin air into Tamir's hands. The metal was still warm.

 

She held it up, admiring the exquisite workmanship. The intertwined copper leaves and vines that framed it were as good as anything she'd seen in a silversmith's stall.

 

"It's lovely!" She handed it to Ki to see, and it passed from hand to hand around the courtyard.

 

"I'm glad it pleases you, Highness. Please accept this as a gift of the Third Oreska," said Iya. "The what?" asked Illardi.

 

"Oreska is an Aurenfaie word meaning mage-born," Iya explained. "Their magic passed by blood to our people, the free wizards, or Second Oreska. We are different in our powers than the 'faie, and often not as powerful. But now we mean to make a new kind of magic and a new way of practicing it, as you have just seen. Thus, we are a new, third sort."

 

"And your Third Oreska will serve Skala?" asked Kyman.

 

"Yes, my lord. It is Illior's will."

 

"And you want nothing in return?" Kyman still looked skeptical.

 

"We ask only for the queen's trust, my lord, and a safe place to nurture and teach the wizard-born."

 

Tamir heard a few snorts and mutterings from the crowd but she ignored them, thinking of the orphans Arkoniel had already gathered and protected—just like he and Iya had protected her. "You will have it, as long as I have your loyalty.

 

"Now, we must turn our thoughts to Ero. Duke Illardi, what do you have to report?"

 

"The winter crops were not much damaged by the Plenimarans, but the grain stores were lost. If the spring crops aren't planted, you risk starvation by winter. At the moment, however, it's shelter and disease that most concern me. If the people scatter away to other cities, they may carry illness with them. But you can't expect them to live on the plain in tents forever, either. Some sort of succor must be given, or you'll have a rebellion on your hands before you've even begun."

 

"Of course, they must be helped."

 

"And they must know their help comes from you, Highness," said Tharin. "Atyion has ample stores to draw from. Send for food, clothing, and lumber. Those the drysians deem healthy could be allowed to go there, or wherever they have kin. The rest must be looked after here."

 

Tamir nodded. "Send word to my steward there at once. Lady Lytia knows best what to do. I've also decided to make Atyion my new capital. It's defensible and has the resources to supply and house an army. With the treasury at Ero lost, I've little to work with here.

 

"Now, regarding Korin. I need to know where he is and if he can be reasoned with. I need to know how many wizards Niryn has with him, too. As long as old Fox Beard is with my cousin, I believe he'll be a poisonous influence. Jorvai, Kyman, I want you to organize scouting parties. Make arrangements among your best riders and report back to me this afternoon. Thank you all again for your support."

 

Che audience had gone well enough, but speaking for so long had left Tamir tired and off-balance. As a young prince, she'd been groomed for leadership, but she still felt far more at home on the battlefield with a sword in her hand. These people were not asking her simply to win a battle, but decide the fate of the land.

 

All that, and learn to walk in skirts, she amended sourly as the assembly broke up. It was quite enough for one morning.

 

She caught Ki by the elbow and drew him away with her. "Come on, I need to walk."

 

"You did well," he exclaimed softly, falling in beside her.

 

"I hope so." She made her way up to the wall walk overlooking the harbor and the distant citadel. The long hem of her dress was a hazard on the ladder. She caught her foot and nearly fell on top of him.

 

"Damnation! Give me a moment." She braced her feet on the rungs and pulled up the edge of the skirt and un-dergown, tucking the hems into her leather girdle the way Iya had shown her. It worked rather well. By the time she reached the top of the ladder, she already had an idea for a special sort of brooch for the purpose. Her fingers itched for a stylus and tablet.

 

The sentries on duty bowed respectfully as they passed. She and Ki paced the wall for a while, then stopped at an empty embrasure and leaned on the parapet, watching the gulls circling over the waves. The day was clear, the water green and silver in the afternoon light. If she only looked east, the world seemed clean and free. Behind her, the city still smoldered, a blackened ruin, and the beaches were littered with broken ships.

 

"All that you said about advancing men on merit, and loyalty being rewarded? They could tell you meant it," Ki said at last. "You had the heart of every warrior in that yard! I saw Iya whispering to Arkoniel, too. I bet even she was impressed."

 

Tamir frowned out at the sea.

 

Ki rested a hand on her shoulder. "I know you're still angry at her about all that's happened, and the way they lied to you. But I've been thinking it over and I see why they did all that.

 

"I'm mad at them, too," he went on. "Well, mostly Arkoniel, since he was the one we knew best. Only… Well, I've been thinking. Don't you suppose maybe it was hard on him, too? I see the way he watches you, and how proud he looks sometimes, but sad, too. Maybe you ought to give him another chance?"

 

Tamir gave him a grudging shrug. Anxious to change the subject, she tugged at the skirt of her gown. "So you don't think I look like a complete fool in this?"

 

"Well, I'm still getting used to it," Ki admitted.

 

"And I have to squat to piss," she muttered.

 

"Does it hurt? Where your cock and balls came off, I mean? I damn near fainted when that happened."

 

Tamir shuddered at the memory. "No, it doesn't hurt, but I can't let myself think much on it. I just feel—empty there. I don't mind the tits half so much as that. It's like I'm one of those poor bastards the Plenimarans castrated!"

 

Ki grimaced and leaned in beside her, resting his shoulder against hers. She leaned gratefully into him. For a moment they just stood there, watching the gulls.

 

After a moment he cleared his throat and said without looking at her, "Illior might have taken that away, but you've got a girl's—parts in their place, right? It's not like you're a eunuch or anything."

 

"I guess so."

 

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You guess so?"

 

"I haven't exactly explored," she confessed miserably. "Every time I think of it, I feel sick."

 

Ki fell silent and when she was finally able to look at him, she found he'd blushed scarlet right up to his ears. "What?"

 

He shook his head and leaned over the parapet, still not looking at her.

 

"Come on, Ki! I can tell when you've got something to say."

 

"It's not my place."

 

"That's the first time I've ever heard that from you. What is it?"

 

"Well—if you are a proper girl there, then—" He broke off, reddening even more.

 

"Bilairy's balls, Ki, just come out with it!"

 

He groaned. "Well, if you are a true girl, then you haven't really lost anything. For fuc—for fun, I mean. Girls tell me they enjoy it just as much as men do."

 

Tamir couldn't look at him either, knowing he was talking about girls he'd bedded.

 

"That's what all my father's women and my older sisters always claimed, anyway, that women are more randy than men," he added quickly. "Maybe not the first time or two, but after that? All the ones I know claim to like doing it."

 

"I guess you'd know about that," Tamir replied. Ki was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "You never did any of that, did you?"

 

"No. I didn't fancy girls."

 

Ki nodded and returned to his contemplation of the sea. They both knew whom she had fancied.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 7

 

  

 

 

 

Lutha sat alone, far down the long table from Korin and the others, among soldiers and minor lords he didn't know, men who had drifted into Cirna looking for a king to serve. They knew who Lutha was, though, and eyed him curiously over their wine, no doubt wondering what he was doing so far from his rightful place. They probably thought he was in disgrace and they weren't far off.

 

Shame and resentment smoldered in Lutha's heart as he watched Korin and the older Companions laughing with Niryn while Caliel, ignored, stared glumly into his mazer. Lutha had joined the Companions when he was eight years old and served Korin loyally every day since. So had Cal. Now Korin hardly spoke to either of them. And all because, their first morning here, Caliel had suggested that a Companion go back to Ero to learn the truth about Tobin and Lutha had agreed.

 

There had always been rumors about Tobin—the madness in his family, the demon ghost, and of course, the gossip about him and Ki. Neither Lutha nor Caliel knew what to make of this latest business, though. They'd swum naked with Tobin too many times to believe he'd been a girl in boy's clothes. Now Lutha was torn between wondering if Tobin had somehow gone mad overnight, or if he'd just suddenly turned traitor and liar. Lutha couldn't imagine the Tobin he knew doing either, much less Ki going along with such a farce. No, something very strange indeed was going on.

 

Tired of the sidelong glances of his tablemates, Lutha wanted nothing more than to steal off to his room with Barieus or Caliel and a skin of wine, but Caliel wouldn't leave Korin's side and Barieus currently had his hands full, trying to fill the serving duties of his fellow squires who'd fallen at Ero.

 

So few of us left, he thought, taking another sip of wine to ease the sudden tightness in his throat. He missed Nikides most of all. He'd been Lutha's first friend at court, and now he was dead. Barieus had taken it hard, too, and was also quietly pining for Lynx, for whom he had a bit of a fancy.

 

If Korin missed them, too, he showed it by drinking more than ever at night and Niryn only seemed to encourage such behavior. With Caliel under a cloud and Tanil gone, there was no one left to curb Korin. Master Porion was as disapproving as ever, but there was little he could say, given his rank. Korin was no longer the old swordsman's student, but his king.

 

It was a strange and cheerless court they kept here. Korin claimed to be the rightful king of Skala, and had even had himself crowned by a trembling priest, but they lived like exiles on this lonely, windswept stretch of the isthmus.

 

The fortress yards still stank of blood and fire. The garrison, still loyal to Tobin, had tried to resist, but Erius had made Niryn Protector here, and he'd had his Red Hawk Guard at the ready. They cut down the Cirna men and opened the gates to Korin. The sight of all those Skalans dead by Skalan hands had turned Lutha's stomach the night they'd ridden in. There were women among the dead, too, and even a little page who couldn't have been more than six. Someone had run him through. What sort of warrior killed a page?

 

Cirna was a formidable defensive position, though, one of the most critical in the land. It stood at the narrowest point on the land bridge connecting the Skalan peninsula to the rich farmland territory to the north. A man with a good strong arm could throw a stone into the Osiat Sea from the western wall; from the eastern wall an archer could shoot an arrow into the Inner Sea.

 

That also meant, however, that whichever way the wind came from, it carried the damp and salt and left it on every surface. The bedsheets were clammy and every door in the place was warped, their hinges stiff and loud with rust. No matter how many times Lutha licked his lips, he always tasted salt. Even the great hall was perpetually dank and cold, despite the hearth fires and torches that burned there day and night.

 

Korin was bantering drunkenly with Alben now, reaching around Niryn to tug at a lock of the young lord's prized long black hair. Alben laughed and pushed him away. Korin swayed on the bench, jostling Caliel's arm and spilling his wine. Alben lurched back into Urmanis, sitting beside him. Urmanis swore and pushed him back. Alben lost his balance and tumbled backward off the bench amidst much laughter. Even Old Fox Beard joined in. The wizard was especially thick with those two now, and had tried to court Caliel, but Caliel kept his distance from the man.

 

Lutha had never cared much for Alben or Urmanis. They were arrogant and could be mean bastards when they chose, which was often enough. They'd always gone along with all Korin's whims, no matter how base, and they were in high favor these days.

 

Poor Caliel was another matter. He still had his place at the table, but something was very wrong between him and Korin. Dark-eyed, golden-haired Cal had always been the sun to Korin's moody clouds, the one among them who, together with Tanil, could cajole him out of a vicious prank or get him to bed before he poisoned himself completely with wine. Korin seldom listened to him anymore.

 

Korin was better in daylight, perhaps because he stayed sober then. Still dressed in mourning, he greeted the worried nobles flocking to his court, accompanied by the remaining Companions and Porion. He wore his grief with a dignity beyond his years. In less than a year's time he'd lost wife, child, father, and capital. Men who hadn't seen him hesitate in battle were drawn in by his flashing eyes and ready smile. They saw his father in him: strong, hearty, and charming. Nobles old enough to be Korin's grandfather knelt with tears in their eyes to kiss his ring and touch the hilt of the great sword at his belt. At times like that Lutha could almost forget his own doubts.

 

Late at night, in the privacy of his own hall, however, Korin drank more heavily than ever and that grim, haunted look returned. It was the same look he'd had after their first raid, and when he'd gotten them all cornered in Ero. When Korin was drunk, the fear showed through. And Niryn was always there at the young king's elbow, whispering.

 

"Advising him," Old Fox Beard called the bile he fed Korin.

 

Niryn usually kept out of sight during the day, and Lutha kept as far from the man as he could at any hour. He'd felt the Wizards gaze on him too often. Anyone could see that Niryn meant for Korin to take up where his father had left off, but Lutha was smart enough to keep such thoughts to himself.

 

A few lords and officers who'd dared speak their minds had already been hanged in the bailey yard, including a handsome and popular young captain named Faren, from Duke Wethring's regiment. His bloated corpse still hung in the yard, twisting slowly in the unrelenting breeze with a placard around its neck. It bore a single epithet scrawled in large letters: Traitor.

 

Only Caliel still dared stand up to the wizard, and Lutha feared for him. Others might feel the same, and Lutha knew of those who did, but Caliel was too hot-blooded and loyal to hold his tongue. He braved the warning signs and Korin's occasional bouts of drunken abuse and stayed by his friend, even when it seemed he was not wanted. You're going to land yourself in the dungeon, or worse," Lutha warned him one night as they huddled together in a sheltered corner of the windswept battlements.

 

Caliel leaned down and put his mouth close to Lutha's ear. "I can't just stand by and watch that creature steal his soul."

 

It sent a chill through him that even here, alone, Caliel wouldn't speak Niryn's name aloud.

 

In addition to the few surviving Harrier wizards and his "grey-back" Guard, Niryn had Moriel. Moriel the Toad. Moriel looked more like a white rat with his pale hair and long sharp nose, but he had the cold, hungry heart of a toad. He'd lurked around court ever since his first patron, Lord Orun, had tried to put him in Ki's place as squire.

 

Neither Tobin nor Korin would have anything to do with him, but he'd somehow managed to attach himself to Niryn after Orun's death, and now it seemed there was no getting rid of the little shit short of poisoning his soup. He was called the wizard's secretary, and though he seemed to be perpetually at the man's side like a bleached, moist-eyed shadow, he was still up to his old tricks. He had sharp eyes and long ears and a nasty habit of turning up where he was least expected. It was whispered among the common soldiers that it had been on Moriel's evidence that Captain Faren had been hanged.

 

Lutha caught sight of him now, approaching along the wall walk. Caliel snorted softly, then leaned on the parapet, as if he and Lutha were simply taking in the view.

 

Moriel came abreast of them and paused, as if expecting a greeting. Caliel turned his back coldly, and Lutha did the same.

 

"Pardon me," Moriel murmured in that oily, insinuating tone he'd picked up from his time in Lord Orun's house. "I didn't mean to intrude on a lovers' tryst."

 

Caliel watched him walk out of sight, then muttered, "Filthy little ass-licker. One of these days I'll find an excuse to slit his throat." Lutha elbowed him, nodding at a white-robed figure ghosting across the misty yard just below. It was impossible to tell if it was Niryn or one of his remaining wizards, but it was safest to assume that all of them were spies.

 

Caliel stayed silent until the wizard was out of sight. Lutha noticed how he rubbed absently at the golden ring on his right forefinger. It was the hawk ring Tobin had made for him. Caliel still wore it, even now, just as Lutha still wore the horse charm Tobin had made for him.

 

"This isn't the Skala I was raised to fight for," Caliel muttered.

 

Lutha waited for him to add, "This isn't the Korin I know," but Caliel just nodded to him and walked away.

 

Not yet ready to face his damp bed, Lutha lingered behind. The moon was struggling out from behind the clouds, silvering the sea fog rising over the Osiat. Somewhere out there, beyond the scattered islands, lay Aurenen, and Gedre. He wondered if their friend Arengil was awake there, looking north and wondering about them.

 

Lutha still cringed at the memory of the day Erius had caught them giving sword lessons to the girls on the Old Palace roof. Arengil had been sent home in disgrace and Una had disappeared. Lutha wondered if he'd ever see them again. No one handled hawks better than Arengil.

 

As he started for the stairs, a flash of movement on the tower balcony caught his eye. Lamps still glowed through the windows there, and he could make out a lone figure looking down at him—Nalia, Consort of Skala. Without thinking, he waved. He thought he saw her return the gesture before she disappeared inside.

 

"Good night, Highness," he whispered. By rights, she was a princess, but in fact she was little better than a prisoner.

 

Lutha had spoken with the young woman only once before, the day of her hasty marriage to Korin. Lady Nalia was not pretty, it was true, her plain features marred by a mottled red birthmark that covered one cheek. But she was well-spoken and gracious, and there was a sad pride in her bearing that had pulled at Lutha's heartstrings. No one knew where Niryn had found a girl of the blood, but Korin and the priests seemed satisfied of her lineage.

 

Something wasn't right, though. Clearly she'd married under duress, and since then she wasn't allowed out of her tower except for the occasional brief, heavily guarded walk on the battlements at night. She didn't join them for meals, or go for rides or hunts, like a noblewoman should. Niryn claimed that it wasn't safe for her to go out, that she was too precious as the last true female heir of the blood, and that the times were too uncertain.

 

"Doesn't it seem a bit odd that she can't even come down to the hall for supper?" Lutha had asked Caliel. "If she's not safe there, then things are worse than anyone's letting on!"

 

"It's not that," muttered Caliel. "He can't stand the sight of her, poor thing."

 

Lutha's heart ached for her. If she'd been stupid, or petty like Korin's first wife, then he might have been able to forget her in that tower. As it was, he found himself fretting for her, especially when he caught glimpses of her at her window or on her balcony, gazing longingly at the sea.

 

He sighed and headed back to his room, hoping Barieus had the bed warmed up for him.

 

________________________________________

 

Chapter 8

 

  

 

 

 

Nalia flinched back from the low parapet and stole a guilty look at Tomara, who sat knitting in the chair by the open door behind her. She hadn't noticed the young man on the walls below until he'd waved.

 

She hadn't been looking for anyone. She'd been staring down into the paved yard below the tower, gauging yet again whether or not she'd die at once if she jumped. It would be such a simple matter. The parapet was low, hardly up to her waist. She could stand on it, or simply climb over and let go. She didn't think Tomara was strong enough to stop her.

 

A moment's courage and she would be free from this dishonorable captivity.

 

If Lord Lutha hadn't startled her, she might have managed it tonight. Instead, his brief, friendly gesture had sent her shrinking back from the edge, worrying that Tomara had noticed her impulsive response.

 

But she just looked up from her handiwork and smiled. "It's a chilly night, my lady. Close the door and I'll make us some tea."

 

Nalia sat at the small writing desk and watched as Tomara set about preparing the pot, but her thoughts strayed back to Lutha's kind gesture. She pressed a hand to her breast, blinking back tears. How could something as simple as a wave to a stranger in the night make my heart race like this? Perhaps because it had been the closest thing to simple human kindness she'd known in the weeks since this nightmare had descended?

 

If I had the courage to go back out and do as I planned, would he still be there to see? Would he be sad that I was dead? Would anyone?

 

She doubted it. Korin, and the few servants and guards she was allowed to see—even Niryn—they all called her Consort now, but she was nothing but a prisoner, a pawn in their game. How could such a thing have happened?

 

 been so happy, growing up in Hear. But Niryn—the man she'd called guardian, and then lover—he had betrayed her with breathtaking cruelty, and now he expected her thanks.

 

"It's safer here, my darling," he told her, when he'd first brought her to this awful, lonely place. Nalia had hated it the moment she'd set eyes on it, but she'd tried to be brave. After all, Niryn had promised he could come to her more often.

 

But he hadn't, and a few months later madness took the garrison. One faction of soldiers, the ones with the red hawks on their grey tabards, attacked the Cirna guard. The sounds that came to her window from the yards that night had been horrifying. She'd cowered in her chamber with her nurse and little page, thinking the world was ending.

 

Niryn had come that night, but not to save her. With no warning or explanation he'd ushered in an unkempt, hollow-eyed young stranger who stank of blood and sweat and wine.

 

Niryn, who'd played with her as a child and taught her the joys of the bedchamber and made her forget her own flawed reflection—that monster had simply smiled and said, "Lady Nalia, allow me to present your new husband."

 

She'd fainted dead away.

 

When she'd come around again she was lying on her bed and Prince Korin was sitting there, watching her. He must not have realized she was awake at first, because she caught the look of revulsion on his face just before it disappeared. He, all bloody and stinking, the invader of her chamber, looking at her that way! They were alone, and she cried out and cowered back from him, thinking he meant to rape her.

 

To his credit, Korin had been kind. "I've never forced a woman in my life," he told her. He was handsome under all that grime, she couldn't help noting, and so very earnest. "You are of royal blood, a kinswoman. I have no wish to dishonor you."

 

"Then what do you want?" she asked faintly, pulling the coverlet up to her chin over her shift.

 

He'd looked a bit confused at that. Perhaps he thought Niryn's cold introduction was explanation enough. "My father, the king, is dead. I am king now." He took her hand in his dirty one and tried to smile, but it was a sickly attempt. His gaze kept straying to the livid mark that ran like spilled wine from her mouth to her shoulder. "I need a consort. You will bear the heirs of Skala."

 

Nalia had laughed in his face. All she could think to say was, "And Niryn has no objection?" Some part of her poor, addled mind could not yet grasp that her lover, her protector, had betrayed her.

 

Korin had frowned at that. "Lord Niryn was guided by prophecy to protect and hide you so that you could fulfill this destiny."

 

But he was my lover! He's had me to his bed countless times! She tried to throw the words in his face, thinking it the only way to save herself from such disgrace. But nothing came out, not so much as a whisper. An icy numbness took her lips, then spread down her throat, on down to engulf her heart and belly, and pooled at last between her legs, where it changed to a brief, hot tingle, like a lover's parting kiss. She gasped and blushed, but the silence held. Some magic had been laid on her. But how? And by whom?

 

Mistaking her intent, Korin raised her hand to his lips. His silky black moustache tickled against her skin so differently than Niryn's coppery beard. "We will be properly married, lady. I'll come to you with a priest tomorrow." "Tomorrow?" Nalia said. Her voice was hers again, though faint. "So soon?"

 

"These are uncertain times. Later, when things are more settled, perhaps we can have a proper wedding feast. For now, it only matters that our child be legitimate."

 

Our child. So she was to be nothing but a royal broodmare. For the first time in her young life, Nalia felt the beginnings of true anger.

 

Your friend Niryn has been in my bed more times than I can count! How she longed to shout it, but again the icy coldness stopped her lips and her breath with it. She pressed a hand to her useless mouth as tears of frustration and fear rolled down her cheeks.

 

Korin noticed her distress and to his credit, she saw genuine concern in those dark eyes. "Please don't cry, lady. I know this is all very sudden." Then he spoiled it again, when he stood to go and added, "It's not my choice, either. But we must think of Skala."

 

Alone again, she'd pulled the covers over her head and sobbed. She had no family, no protectors, no friend to turn to.

 

She wept long into the night, and fell asleep on the sodden pillow. When she woke at dawn, she found she was still alone and had no tears left.

 

She went to the east window, watching the sky brighten over the Inner Sea. Men with red hawks on their breasts patrolled the walls below, while the true birds rode the morning breeze in freedom beyond.

 

I've never been free, she realized. It had all been an illusion and she'd been such a contented fool. The anger she'd felt last night returned, stronger now. If she had no one to look to for help, then she must look after herself. She was not a child, after all. And she was done being a fool.